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‘But she will not shoot you,’ Melusine told him flatly. Gentlemen! a glass of brandy will be no bad finish to our meal. She was, as Capes had said, a hard young woman. Arrived at Westbourne-Green—then nothing more than a common covered with gorse and furzebushes, and boasting only a couple of cottages and an alehouse—he perceived through the hedges the objects of his search slowly ascending the gentle hill that rises from KensallGreen. Nowadays, from the looks of it, people were lining up to become vampires. .
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