He made it more and more evident to her that her proper course was not to earn a salary but to accumulate equipment. Michelle had begged her to do it. Ah Cum explained. A young woman with a white badge on her arm stood and counted the sections as they entered their vans. “So, do you want to become a vampire?” Michelle was quietly delighted. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. Tucked under the writing-table a pair of yellow and gold Turkish slippers of a highly meretricious quality caught her eye. But next moment, Captain Roding put up her back. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat.
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