It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. He warned her that it drove most men mad and that the process for choosing another to become a vampire was lengthy and protracted with good reason. ” “So far,” she continued, eyeing hungrily the last morsel of roll which lay upon her plate, “my only chance of occupation has lain with a photographer who engaged me on the spot and insulted me in half an hour.
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