The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy. ToC On the night of Friday, the 26th of November, 1703, and at the hour of eleven, the door of a miserable habitation, situated in an obscure quarter of the Borough of Southwark, known as the Old Mint, was opened; and a man, with a lantern in his hand, appeared at the threshold. She had never fasted before as a vampire, and a horrible twisting pain emerged in her gut, shaking her legs with muscle cramps. “I shot him. Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone.
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