“And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. But she was not sure just how to reach it. “I do not understand. ” She suddenly caught hold of his shoulders and drew him down towards her. But she was relentless. Diane seemed more interested in the prestige of her violin skills than in the more sordid subject of her vampirism. Their conversation was conducted in the flash language, and, though unintelligible to Wood, was easily comprehended by this companion, who learnt, to her dismay, that the wounded man had received his hurt from her son, whose courage and dexterity formed the present subject of their discourse. Does that boy live in some sort of personal cave? Like, I think he might even be thinking about asking you out again! That is what I think. I put my foot down like—like adamant.
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