My concept of the reluctant vampire sprung from a rabid obsession with medieval history, especially the pre-Renaissance era of the Black Plague. White assented. He had absorbed her in a single glance, and was now defining her as he worked. “You too were deceived. Your mother, for instance, couldn’t. There was a certain air of forced fortuity in his manner. That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless. "Bravo, Poll!" cried Jack, who having again pinioned Shotbolt, was now tracing a few hasty lines on a sheet of paper.
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