It had been easy to steal. Ann Veronica’s appearance was brief and undistinguished. Somewhere in the world there was a book clerk with a discerning mind; for he had given her the best he had. Luckily, she was bereft of consciousness, and was thus spared the additional misery of witnessing what afterwards befell him. It was also cold, and dark, for there had been no time to light the lantern. It was dangerous for her to dare approaching him and she knew the tremendous risk she was taking, but a part of her demanded that he be found. She looked upon it with pity as she drank his diabetic blood and saw that several of his fingers were missing.
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