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A little table covered with a damask cloth was dragged out. Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes. He was an old, skilled vampire. She found a little difficulty in beginning. This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's. "Is it you?" "It is," replied Sheppard, as he untied the cords. \" Lucy scanned her memories for a face to match the name Josh Durkin. Then, after Capes had been through her work and had gone on, it came to her that the fabric of this life of hers was doomed to almost immediate collapse; that in a little while these studies would cease, and perhaps she would never set eyes on him again.
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