It had her raven locks, her pouting lips. Probably something he had eaten. Both husband and wife affected an unnatural ease of manner for the benefit of the efficient parlor-maid, who was putting the finishing touches to the sideboard arrangements. “I’m a ghoul! So you can become a ghoul? You should settle down, John, get married, have children. If we do not begin—” She had come to a resolution. And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek.
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