It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another. I would be chased by every curious party on this planet, by vampireseekers, by witch-hunters, by researchers, you name it. In the little apartment, under the gas chandelier, his inches and his stoop were certainly very effective. I cannot have my wife distressed or worried. The future was not so black. " "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. And also I have this Prudence. I’ve always had a sneaking desire for the writing-trade.
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