The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. The priceless things were gathered, the belongings packed. But a biddable girl. Nobody regards Constance or Vee as a delicate trifle. These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels. Capes scored back with an uncompromising vigor that was his way of complimenting her intelligence. “Perhaps you will help me shuffle?” Ann Veronica did, and also assisted nimbly with the arrangements of the rows of eight with which the struggle began. Father— dead. “I truly am a vampire, John. ” She nodded in the affirmative.
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