Then it came to her with a shock, as an extraordinary oversight, that she could never tell Manning about Ramage—never. I think I asked if I could eat lunch with her and Trisha Deere one day and she said there was no room at the table. The cart, meantime, had approached the fatal tree. My concept of the reluctant vampire sprung from a rabid obsession with medieval history, especially the pre-Renaissance era of the Black Plague. She knew, too, she must not hesitate.
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