“Why just take her limbs? Why not poison her, like me?” “Because, if you remember, she turned me into a vampire. ” She marked an hotel that seemed neither opulent nor odd in a little side street opening on the Embankment, made up her mind with an effort, and, returning by Hungerford Bridge to Waterloo, took a cab to this chosen refuge with her two pieces of luggage. “May I ask whether you are staying with friends in town?” he inquired deferentially. It isn’t just one among a number of important things; for her it is the important thing, and until she knows far more than I know of the facts of life, how is she to undertake it? So please; if you will, forget that you wrote that letter, and forgive this answer. "Take courage, man; it is only Quilt Arnold.
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