He dared not go on. My concept of the reluctant vampire sprung from a rabid obsession with medieval history, especially the pre-Renaissance era of the Black Plague. . I love you still, Anna, but life holds other things than the love of man for woman. I’ll give you grandpére!’ ‘But milor’—’ ‘Pardon!’ No longer master of his actions, the general lurched forward, waving his cane. Sheppard let fall her basket. The conversation which her entrance had interrupted began to buzz again all around her. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping.
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