Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. He had always warned her explicitly about turning others into vampires. The next weekend arrived and she made her decision. "The blood that has been spilt is that of his wife. When Jack entered the cell, she was talking to herself in the muttering unconnected way peculiar to her distracted condition; but, after her eye had rested on him some time, the fixed expression of her features relaxed, and a smile crossed them. And yet for all that— It got into Ann Veronica’s nights at last and kept her awake, the perplexing contrast between the advanced thought and the advanced thinker. She was taken dreadfully ill on the road, with spasms and short breath, and swoonings,—worse than ever she was before. All these wonderful comrades, henceforth and for ever hers. I’m rather scornful.
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