If I could but——” To escape from her thoughts she began to undress, humming a light tune to herself, though her eyes were hot with unshed tears, and the sobs kept rising in her throat. He touched her breast as if he was testing the waters of a cold lake. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. What'll we call him—Rollo?"—ironically. Wood; but they never come now. Upon my word, Anna,” she declared, with a strange little laugh, “you are a thousand times more like me as I was two months ago than I am myself. ” “Is she the one who made you into a vampire?” “Yes.
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