“You’re not interested in politics?” he asked, almost with a note of protest. His legs were fine and strong, he told her that he had been a warrior in ancient times, to which she snorted in disgust. “What about blood banks? Have you ever tried them?” “I don’t just take blood, John. Here and there, a rectangular patch, darker than the rest, showed that some had been removed. Monsieur is going inside perhaps?” But Sir John’s eyes were still riveted upon the poster, and his heart was beating with unaccustomed force. The leg and wing of a duck were disposed of by this gentleman in a twinkling; a brace of pigeons and a pound of steak followed with equal celerity; and he had just begun to make a fierce assault upon the eggs and ham.
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