. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. He had been thrilled at her attitude about the subject, which was simply not to turn others into vampires. Her head felt absurdly like one of those noddling manikins in the Hong-Kong curio-shops. And I’ll have that story off you as we journey back to town. ” “Mr. ’ ‘Now that’s where you’re wrong.
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