“Veronica,” Stoker said, his eyes brilliant in the low lamplight, “I have known you in every possible way a man can know a woman. I understand you better than you will ever admit because one cannot fully love what one does not fully comprehend, and believe me when I say I love you entirely and comprehend you completely. For all your delightful unpredictability, you are thoroughly consistent in always choosing the most outlandish, outrageous, unimaginable options in any given situation. And that is how I know you mean to take the place of the Beauty in that casket.”
