He was a little embarrassed. Diane seemed more interested in the prestige of her violin skills than in the more sordid subject of her vampirism. He had absorbed her in a single glance, and was now defining her as he worked. "He hears me not! he's gone!" she added, as the door was opened and shut with violence; "something tells me I shall never see him again!" When her father, a moment afterwards, issued from the parlour to ascertain the cause of the noise, he found her seated on the stairs, in an agony of grief. ” “Do you think so? I find my interest in that sort of thing decline and decline.
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