There was a strip of old rose brocade in the making that set an ache in the girl's heart for the want of it. And, though neither peace nor innocence can be restored to my bosom; though tears cannot blot out my offences, nor sorrow drown my shame; yet, knowing that my penitence is sincere, I do not despair that my transgressions may be forgiven. ‘And so you sneak back,’ she threw at him, ‘like the jackal that you are. “I truly am a vampire, John.
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