” “You would let him—knowing—all that you know?” “Why not? She is my flesh and blood. You are the High Priestess of Life. He had always warned her explicitly about turning others into vampires. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. He could not kiss Ruth because the acquired conscience—struggling on its way to limbo—made the idea repellant. Jack was so harrassed that he felt half inclined to stand at bay. Things happen out this way. Ever since he's become so famous, the folks about here ha' christened it Jack Sheppard's cage.
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