My concept of the reluctant vampire sprung from a rabid obsession with medieval history, especially the pre-Renaissance era of the Black Plague. Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for. ” “Coffee! Bah!” The newcomer picked her way across the floor with daintily uplifted skirts, and subsided into a deck chair of stretched canvas. This is the one movement that brings women of different classes together for a common purpose. She could hardly remember his face except for his brown hair, thick lips, and narrow dark eyes. It was the girl. Spurling had retired for the night.
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