\"Actually, John, I really must get going. Beauty doesn’t mean, never has meant, anything—anything at all but you. Once before—but that had been different. Vampires are very lonely creatures, John. You shall know the truth. On this fresh outburst of the storm, Wood threw himself instinctively into the bottom of the boat, and clasping the little orphan to his breast, endeavoured to prepare himself to meet his fate. "You are my prisoner. The note-passer lagged behind with her. It's mighty lonesome down there for a man bred to cities. She peered into the darkness.
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