Do you know, Annabel, that you are my wife. My concept of the reluctant vampire sprung from a rabid obsession with medieval history, especially the pre-Renaissance era of the Black Plague. The place was pockmarked with window-like holes everywhere—people were always 138 falling into them and breaking bones--it was for these lookouts why she had chosen it. He saw the expression on the girl's face and understood what it signified, that it was the reflected pattern of his own. And the Duke, too—I heard him say that a married secretary would be worse than useless to him.
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