"You are a physician; you know the vagaries of men in liquor. He'll settle it bravely. ’ ‘Mercy me,’ gasped the nun. My concept of the reluctant vampire sprung from a rabid obsession with medieval history, especially the pre-Renaissance era of the Black Plague. I undid his coat, and I took it from his pocket. Alone; not even the dog to warn her, and Hoddy deep in the island somewhere. ‘Léonore, then?’ She shook her head animatedly, enjoying his attention. ’ ‘Merci,’ she sighed and, surrendering at last to his oft-proffered aid, allowed her head to droop onto his chest. You know they say, as, indeed, I have just quoted already, that all bad poetry is written in a state of emotion, but I have no doubt that this is true of bad offers of marriage. F.
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