CHAPTER IX. The second is to somehow meet Lady Ferringhall. She really must not go to that affair. “Who is the tenant of these rooms?” he inquired. Feeling rather exhausted, it occurred to him that possibly some provisions might have been left by the constable; and, looking about, he perceived a pitcher of water and a small brown loaf on the floor. ” Her urge to drink deeply of his blood was growing insane, ignited by what he had already donated. One point in her narrative stood out beyond all others. He looked at his friend. It was not as bad a wound as she had at first thought, and the blood was only oozing now. In her case the barrier was not selfishness but the perception that her interest would be misinterpreted, naturally.
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