No one will ever love you as I love you now. ’ ‘Also madame his wife—’ Charvill’s gorge rose. I would be chased by every curious party on this planet, by vampireseekers, by witch-hunters, by researchers, you name it. I mean that it doesn’t interest you in itself. Ann Veronica wiped a scalpel, put a card over a watch-glass containing thin shreds of embryonic guinea-pig swimming in mauve stain, and dismantled her microscope. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally.
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