“If I am to turn you into a vampire, she cannot know. “It seems so unfair,” she said, “to take all you offer me and give so little in return. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. Her husband had caught her leaning over a precipice into the ruins of the oubliette, and had punished her by flogging her back with a switch. .
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