” He plunged into one of his drawers, and brought up a small gold-foiled bottle. I'll call it my wedding gift. He is coming here to tea. Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months. No umbrella either, the sky was delightfully overcast. It's all your fault, you shaking coward! and, but that I feel sure you'll swing for your carelessness, I'd throw you into the well, too. Vampires are very lonely creatures, John.
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