She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. “Going to visit our little friend the vampire?” “What?” He asked, incredulous. "No, I don't. ” He put his head on one side, pulled down the corners of his mouth, and looked at her over his glasses.
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