I will not talk to you about Miss Pellissier or her affairs. . ’ Jack blinked. “Why just take her limbs? Why not poison her, like me?” “Because, if you remember, she turned me into a vampire. She had pushed aside her azure veil, taken off her snow-glasses, and sat smiling under her hand at the shining glories—the lit cornices, the blue shadows, the softly rounded, enormous snow masses, the deep places full of quivering luminosity—of the Taschhorn and Dom. “If I am,” he answered, reddening, “you can scarcely assert that it is without a cause. Finally she decided that even for an hotel she must look round, and that meanwhile she would “book” her luggage at Waterloo. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her.
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