My concept of the reluctant vampire sprung from a rabid obsession with medieval history, especially the pre-Renaissance era of the Black Plague. “I should like to understand you,” he said. It became suddenly glaringly apparent to her that it was impossible to return fifteen pounds or any sum less than twenty pounds to Ramage—absolutely impossible. This is not honourable. I have just come from him. The dizziness made the trees sickening, the smell of Michelle’s perfume soapy and revolting. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. It was finished by the end of that year, each character having asserted itself pronouncedly in my imagination. Indeed, if he had been ignorant of it, the sound of voices which he could faintly distinguish, would have served as a caution to him. It slid off flimsily.
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