The House of the Vampire

he bookshelves of the reviewers with fiction. The latter Ernest turned to good account, but from the flowers no poem blossomed forth. In writing about other men

ith an impenetrable maze. The day before Jack had come on a flying visit from Harvard

couch, waving the smoke of his cigarette

his papers. "And his ebon-coloured hair contrasts prettily with the g

iendship bridges t

have you k

ms ever since our

racted yo

ppears to be highly complex under the microscope. How can we hope to analyse, with any degree of cert

f-analysis. We must learn to see clearly into our own hearts if we would give vitality to our work. Indiscretion is the bet

Conflicting forces sway us hither and thither without neutralising each other. Physicology isn't physics. There were many

is lashes are those of a girl. Y

caring. We are two bei

psychic Sia

the same books have nourished us, the same great winds have shaken our bein

pardon my saying so, as a r

taking his post-graduate course at Harvard, and for well-nigh two months we have not met; yet so many inv

young," Regi

do you

never

ve that two hearts m

ks beat in unison. There is always a discrepancy, in

d the conversation. A moment later

Then, noticing Clarke, he shook hands with the great man unceremoniously, with the n

d heavily and then stepped to the window, as i

o shrivelled veins the pressure of his hand imparts a spark of animation, and middle age un

ck. "He looks a trifle paler than usual, and a day'

will take very good care

o?" Ernest asked,

ald's scepticisms had more deeply impress