My arms are hungry for you.

Come, and we can rest together.

Come, my husband, come!" There was something diabolically sweet in her tones, something of the tinkling of glass when struck, which rang through the brains even of us who heard the words addressed to another.
As for Arthur, he seemed under a spell, moving his hands from his face, he opened wide his arms.

She was leaping for them, when Van Helsing sprang forward and held between them his little golden crucifix.

She recoiled from it, and, with a suddenly distorted face, full of rage, dashed past him as if to enter the tomb.
When within a foot or two of the door, however, she stopped, as if arrested by some irresistible force.