That was the true miracle of the gift; without actual experience, to imagine love and hate and greed and how they would react upon each other; and then, when these passions had served their temporary purpose, to cast them aside for new imaginings. “You are a dear,” she exclaimed affectionately. Do you indeed remember? The smell of decay and cheap methylated spirit!. And in that respect they stir up one another. "I shall want a bottle or two of sack, and a flask of usquebaugh. "Well?" he whispered. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. We vampires have awesome powers of regeneration, given adequate donors.
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