“But,” he said, “you do not blame me altogether?” She rose to her feet. And all to satisfy a succession of rapacious lightskirts. I would be chased by every curious party on this planet, by vampireseekers, by witch-hunters, by researchers, you name it. Or else he was indeed obsessed. “You go home,” he said, at parting; “you go home. Have the goodness to affix your name to that memorandum, Sir Rowland. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. “I have been very selfish,” she declared. He accepted the glass of wine, and bowed. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. Heedless, however, of the consequences, he pursued his task. This obstacle, which appeared to preclude the possibility of egress in that quarter, was speedily got rid of. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. ‘I don’t want that girl running her head into any more danger.
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