Arrived at Paddington, he struck across Marylebone Fields,—for as yet the New Road was undreamed of,—and never moderated his speed until he reached the city. She rested her head upon his shoulder. It was surely odd that her thought should pick up that picture and recast it so vividly. 167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. We vampires have awesome powers of regeneration, given adequate donors.
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