” He nodded. Even in his fevered hours, so the girl had said, his tongue had not betrayed him. She had never expected John capable of saying such things, of thinking such macabre ideas. “Anna,” he cried eagerly. The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue. “You must remember,” she said, “that you yourself are responsible for your altered looks. ‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. ‘To read and write, of course, and to sew. Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for. He had been thrilled at her attitude about the subject, which was simply not to turn others into vampires. Hill lost a little of his truculency.
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