But there was no feeling of remorse; there was only the sensation of exaltation. “You know,” he went on, “this doesn’t seem to me to end anything. ‘Oh, peste. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. ’ ‘That is what you thought of me. "You've got him?" demanded Ireton. He had always warned her explicitly about turning others into vampires. “The young women of Jane Austen’s time didn’t get into this sort of scrape! At least—one thinks so.
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