‘Well, if that’s what the good Lord wants, then you’ll just have to accept it. On reaching the churchyard, he perceived the melancholy procession descending the hill. ‘Doesn’t she, Gerald?’ Gerald held up his hands. He took her hand in his, raising it closer, and gently touched the maltreated skin. He had been thrilled at her attitude about the subject, which was simply not to turn others into vampires. His blood would be sweet with it. —'Why, hang every bailiff that sets a foot in your territories, and you're safe,' says I.
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