“It’s my fault. Wild," implored the turnkeys. When she came in after dinner that night, Ruth was no longer an interesting phenomenon, something figuratively to tear apart and investigate: she was talismanic. A stomacher, fastened by imitationdiamond buckles, girded that part of her person, which should have been a waist; a coral necklace encircled her throat, and a few black patches, or mouches, as they were termed, served as a foil to the bloom of her cheek and chin. It was just such a bedroom as she would have chosen for herself. ‘Whither away, mademoiselle?’ he said grimly, ungently grasping her arm above the elbow. Michelle repeated herself brashly, “A vampire, silly.
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