Karl took her arm. Frost granules spilled from the sleeves where the hands had been. And it was like blood; hot, flowing, pulsing, animal. Her room was at the rear of the house, the window overlooking the back garden.
If you could trust your own judgement, Charlotte, you would know the answer. Remaining seated—as though the courtesy of standing up would frighten the spirit away— he said gently, Charlotte, I seem to make a habit of startling you. Surely it was impossible to go on loving him after what she had seen, after what he had told her about himself, yet she could not stop. Dreams and Chains 15.
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