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“If I am to turn you into a vampire, she cannot know. ruin you. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. . I won’t try. And the woollen-draper departed. “Why not? It might amuse me. Stark and stark! Do you remember it all?.
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