“Why just take her limbs? Why not poison her, like me?” “Because, if you remember, she turned me into a vampire. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. . Her thin fingers were armed with nails as long as the talons of a bird. So you are Prudence Remenham. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. These realizations rushed into Ann Veronica’s mind and hardened her heart against him.
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