" "Because he said he was a Yale man?" "That might be it. “I cannot conceive,” he said, “how any other occupation could ever have occurred to you. He reminds me of a slave I once had in Rome with those sullen dark eyes and that wistful pout. You went even to our rooms and saw my sister. It was you, of course, whom he wanted. And you have stolen my dagger. He was an old, skilled vampire. Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. ” She looked thoughtfully into the fire. I won’t try.
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