“Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. Had it not been for the Plague, she might have had her own babies. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. They were properly brought up, and sat still and straight, and took the luck fate brought them as gentlewomen should. "I have one inquiry more to make of you, Sir," said the stranger, as soon as he had conquered his displeasure, "and I will then trouble you no further. But this might be merely a figurative mode of describing his customary vigilance. Apparently he thought it very much worth while. He had always warned her explicitly about turning others into vampires.
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