After all, she only LOOKED a woman. "Aren't you afraid?" "Of what?"—serenely. Only she hadn’t. My concept of the reluctant vampire sprung from a rabid obsession with medieval history, especially the pre-Renaissance era of the Black Plague. “I wonder how it is,” she exclaimed, “that my friends have so much more confidence in me than I have in myself. ‘Do you at least know how he came to be in a position to cheat Miss Charvill, and to pass off his wife in her place?’ ‘In her place?’ There was no mistaking the boy’s ignorance of this part of the tale. “The things involved in it are,” he answered gravely. Half the rooms empty.
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