At last, he got into a lane, but had not proceeded far when he was again alarmed by the sound of a horse's tread. My concept of the reluctant vampire sprung from a rabid obsession with medieval history, especially the pre-Renaissance era of the Black Plague. Under the plumed hat, her eye kindled. Her father’s ideas of expostulation were a little harsh and forcible, and over the claret-colored table-cloth and under the gas chandelier, with his hat and umbrella between them like the mace in Parliament, he and his daughter contrived to have a violent quarrel. ” “How could you!” She exclaimed.
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