“Was that before or after you became a vampire?” Michelle questioned her casually, as if it were an interview. Almost at once she had comprehended that she was expected to write down her name and address, which she did, in slanting cobwebby lettering, perhaps a trifle laboriously. “Where is my beautiful wife?” He bellowed from the downstairs. There was a wall; she was always encountering it; the one time she was able to break through this wall was when the part in his hair was crooked.
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