He stabbed into her with brute force. Gerald lifted an eyebrow. “You need not be alarmed,” he said. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. “If I am to turn you into a vampire, she cannot know. “Go from me, husband!” With a flourish he brought her arms behind her and her body was slammed to the floor. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome.
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