’ Gerald controlled a quivering lip. "Nor any one else, I suspect," answered Ireton, winking significantly. He had been thrilled at her attitude about the subject, which was simply not to turn others into vampires. Her father’s ideas of expostulation were a little harsh and forcible, and over the claret-colored table-cloth and under the gas chandelier, with his hat and umbrella between them like the mace in Parliament, he and his daughter contrived to have a violent quarrel. She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees.
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