Were I not Jonathan Wild, I'd be Jack Sheppard. She tried to compose her thoughts, to think of the last six months, to steep herself in the calm beauty of the surroundings. He did not play golf, but took his exercise on horseback, which was also unsympathetic. She was perfectly aware that the boy had gotten some sort of bug in his craw over her despite her sloppy, strange appearance. “How did you become a vampire, then?” He asked. Sheppard staggered forward.
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