‘And she’s—’ She broke off, a sudden light in her eyes. "You want me, then?" she said. He moved her dress from her shoulders and off her torso. “I’m a vampire. But she disapproved more and more of her own mental austerity. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. If Jack Sheppard could behold his mother in this state, he'd have a lesson he'd never forget—ay, and a severer one than even the hangman could read him. But his role was altered, and he was now playing the bridegroom in this remarkable drama. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. I met you here as Lady Ferringhall. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety.
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