The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. ” She watched his face as he traced his way through these speculative thickets. . As she danced there was in her ears the faded echo of wooden tom-toms. Her eyes followed him. At noon the doctor himself arrived. " "No—no," laughed Jack. But indeed that is not at all a good description of her attitude. My concept of the reluctant vampire sprung from a rabid obsession with medieval history, especially the pre-Renaissance era of the Black Plague.
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