My concept of the reluctant vampire sprung from a rabid obsession with medieval history, especially the pre-Renaissance era of the Black Plague. An incredible road he had elected to travel; he granted that it was incredible; and along this road somewhere would be Desire. ‘I do not steal,’ declared the lady hotly. The mere fact that he was there in the train alongside her, helping her, sitting opposite to her in the dining-car, presently sleeping on a seat within a yard of her, made her heart sing until she was afraid their fellow passengers would hear it. “What you have said is a ridiculous falsehood,” she declared scornfully. "More slang," he said. His hair was thick and brown and his skin was fair. The dark and desperate thoughts that were passing through his mind at this time will presently be shown. Have I your final answer?" "You have, Sir Rowland," she answered, in a feeble tone, but firmly. "These are my terms, Sir Rowland," he added, taking a sheet of paper from his pocket, and pushing it towards the knight.
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