It dropped sideways and fell with a bang to the table. The bedding was removed; Mrs. Ramage, I came here—I didn’t suppose for one moment you would dare —” “Nonsense! That is your mistake! You are too intellectual. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. I have only seen your sister for a very brief time, and I am a little past the age when a man does headstrong things. You intrigue me. Presently you will see that I am right, and then you shall take your vacation over here, and we will be good comrades again. It is I who am persecuted by the man who calls himself your husband. Diane seemed more interested in the prestige of her violin skills than in the more sordid subject of her vampirism. You make me angry, and I lie. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg.
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