He became angry. “And let us have a talk about this—some other time. "You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. She felt her chest trying to float up, but the blessed undertow, the dreaded reason why she was warned to never bathe in the ocean, sucked her feet down, putting the decision where it belonged, into the hands of God. She did not care that vampire children are abominations. I’m a little tired. She hurried with Jack as fast as she could to the open door to the passage.
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