She tied the obi clumsily about her waist, then gently laid her hand on the bowed head. They had turned into the street, on the opposite side of which were the flats where Anna lived. "Perhaps you don't know that this Darrell so contrived matters, that your child should be mistaken for his own; by which means it had a narrow escape from a tight cravat, I can assure you. I mean I’m not a good specimen of a woman. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. But when she turned her thoughts to Morningside Park she perceived the tangled skein of life was now to be further complicated by his romantic importunity. He depended upon her, for his medicine, for his drink, for the little amusement it was now permissible to give him. “If I am to turn you into a vampire, she cannot know. ‘Well?’ she said.
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