Clotilde’s stunning green eyes were reflected in the gazes of the tender young children, but their faces had been hollow and sunken, their hair matted, and their clothing in bad need of repair. “You are so sweet, Lucy. We felt like thieves. My concept of the reluctant vampire sprung from a rabid obsession with medieval history, especially the pre-Renaissance era of the Black Plague. ’ ‘It is true,’ insisted the lady. “It is a night of endings,” she murmured to herself. “I may go to Hatton House later, but you needn’t wait. " "And never should again, were he mine," rejoined Jonathan.
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