Lucy followed her. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time. Very good. It will be a little lonely sometimes,” she said, looking around at them, “and I shall miss you all, but it is the fairest for myself —and I think for you. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. It’s—it’s a social difference. " Prudence felt the hands stiffen oddly; and again the thought came to her that perhaps this poor child's father had once been, perhaps still was, in the same category as this Taber. Diane seemed more interested in the prestige of her violin skills than in the more sordid subject of her vampirism.
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