Your mother arrived, and she knew me for what I was, she whispered to me curses against werewolves and vampires when I was alone in a room with her. So am I. There was a concerted gasp of shock from both the black-garbed lad and the coachman. I hate what I am. I daresay you have the whole thing wrong, Gerald. It comforts him when he is most forlorn. "Red apples and snow!" she sent back at him, her face suddenly transfixed by some inner glory. .
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