"Curiosity, I suppose," returned Jack, carelessly. You never can tell. She had not chosen her life, but she was foggy on whether or not it was right to deny others the right to join her in her suffering. He was beginning to think about her inordinately. The moviegoers exited the cinema in the customary daze that resulted from two hours of sensory bombardment. Stanley took mustard savagely. My concept of the reluctant vampire sprung from a rabid obsession with medieval history, especially the pre-Renaissance era of the Black Plague.
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