The signs of tears had all gone, but some subtle change seemed to have stolen into her face. In fact, Kimble was drowsily awake when she entered the little bedchamber, the state of which left a good deal to be desired, even without the added debris arising from tending a wounded man. "Of course," responded the widow, heaving a deep sigh. "Promise me that. But I’m going to-day. The carpenter did not hesitate a moment. From the further end of the apartment came the low music of a violin. His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting. He was an old, skilled vampire. Ann Veronica said she didn’t care.
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