Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. Sir John, who was standing outside, looked past him at the girl still sitting in the shadow. ” “You don’t. ” She found herself trying to remember all the old tunes her mother had taught her, as they were bright as little stars. ’ ‘Ah. ” He drank. Isn’t that why we are out here?” “Why did you deny you were a vampire? Why are you keeping it a secret?” “I do not share the fact that I am a cannibal with the human race.
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