A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured. Her hair touched water, becoming like the seaweed in its velvet slickness. “Bother!” and decided that this was not so, and would not look to right or left again. The amazing tonic of the thought! From time to time she laid her hand upon Spurlock's forehead: it was still cold. She passed people in the streets and regarded them with a quickening apprehension, once or twice came girls dressed in slatternly finery, going toward Regent Street from out these places. “If I am to turn you into a vampire, she cannot know.
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