For all that die from the preying of the Undead become themselves Undead, and prey on their kind.

And so the circle goes on ever widening, like as the ripples from a stone thrown in the water.

Friend Arthur, if you had met that kiss which you know of before poor Lucy die, or again, last night when you open your arms to her, you would in time, when you had died, have become nosferatu, as they call it in Eastern Europe, and would for all time make more of those Un-Deads that so have filled us with horror.

The career of this so unhappy dear lady is but just begun.

Those children whose blood she sucked are not as yet so much the worse, but if she lives on, UnDead, more and more they lose their blood and by her power over them they come to her, and so she draw their blood with that so wicked mouth.