But I was portentous, I can assure you. It’s not like we’re getting married. There was the stile on which Jonathan had sat, and he recollected distinctly the effect of his mocking glance— how it had hardened his heart against his mother's prayer. And experience was slow in coming. She was quite assured that she would never see him again. “I truly am a vampire, John. He would be so disappointed. For what indeed does she do? A simple song, no gesture, no acting, nothing. In vain Wood protested his innocence.
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