Maybe the girl was telling the truth, and then again, maybe she wasn't. I'll tell you what. One day it was gone. If you owe your confinement to me, you shall owe your liberation to me, also. She could not stir hand or foot. Such revelations she hoped would be considered out of place and inappropriate. His name was Bartolomeo di Alberti. You would do best not to admit to such things either after becoming a vampire. " "Don't be angry with me, Sir," cried the widow, sobbing bitterly, "pray don't.
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