She found a little difficulty in beginning. "Can't you guess?" returned Winifred, throwing her arms about her neck. "A thousand pounds," he observed, gloomily, "is a heavy price to pay for doubtful secrecy, when certain silence might be so cheaply procured. “I guess I’m not the only one who wonders about your past. It isn't as if he were stricken with typhoid or pneumonia or something like that. Nothing but the publicity of the place and the recollection of that terrible constituency kept him from attempting some perfectly respectful but unmistakable evidence of his sympathy. Her family had hosted a feast in his honor for which they had taken weeks to prepare: with braised capons and lobster sausages and all sorts of delicious spiced stews her mother had made from secret recipes. "I guessed what was coming. He had been thrilled at her attitude about the subject, which was simply not to turn others into vampires. She could hear the raucous laughter and bad music below. Recollect that.
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