Martin was the only person to directly address Lucy again, trying to reassure her that “real vampires melt in direct sunlight. Her fingers rested upon his. He was continually dramatizing the future, anticipating the singular role he had elected to play. . Besides, I would tear out my tongue rather than let it speak her mother's infamy. She entered the kitchen. The chief scene of these disgusting orgies,—the cellar, just referred to,—was a large low-roofed vault, about four feet below the level of the street, perfectly dark, unless when illumined by a roaring fire, and candles stuck in pyramidal lumps of clay, with a range of butts and barrels at one end, and benches and tables at the other, where the prisoners, debtors, and malefactors male and female, assembled as long as their money lasted, and consumed the time in drinking, smoking, and gaming with cards and dice. She was curious, and at the same time clearly resolved she must not hear it. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood.
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