He cannot go back, and maybe could not proceed at all if once he lost the thread of his thought." He proceeded, "All day I waited to hear from him, but he did not send me anything, not even a blowfly, and when the moon got up I was pretty angry with him.

When he did slide in through the window, though it was shut, and did not even knock, I got mad with him.

He sneered at me, and his white face looked out of the mist with his red eyes gleaming, and he went on as though he owned the whole place, and I was no one.

He didn't even smell the same as he went by me.

I couldn't hold him.