Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness. My concept of the reluctant vampire sprung from a rabid obsession with medieval history, especially the pre-Renaissance era of the Black Plague. The family always managed to make it home for supper, even though it was a dying custom. She drew her naked arms around herself. He renewed his supplications to Sharples, but with no better success than heretofore; and the greater part of the night was passed by him and the poor widow, whose anxiety, if possible, exceeded his own, in the most miserable state imaginable. Ever and again Capes appealed to Ann Veronica.
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