She mewed weakly, “Sebastian? What have you done? Where is Gianfrancesco? Did you kill him?” He crossed his arms. “What have I been all this time?” she asked herself, and answered, “Just stark egotism, crude assertion of Ann Veronica, without a modest rag of religion or discipline or respect for authority to cover me!” It seemed to her as though she had at last found the touchstone of conduct. “Why just take her limbs? Why not poison her, like me?” “Because, if you remember, she turned me into a vampire. Stanley, whose family had been by any reckoning inconsiderable—to use the kindliest term. I loathe this room. How she had hated it!… All these mumblings which were never explained, which carried no more sense to her brain than they would have carried to Old Morgan's swearing parrot.
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