"Your sympathy is being wasted. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. Diane seemed more interested in the prestige of her violin skills than in the more sordid subject of her vampirism. " "How so?" asked the other, distrustfully.
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