If it was as she said, there was no hope at all--not any.
"I don't believe you," I said, suddenly.

I didn't want to believe her.
The thing was too abominable--too abominable for words, and incredible.
I struggled against it as one struggles against inevitable madness, against the thought of it.

It hung over me, stupefying, deadening.

One could only fight it with violence, crudely, in jerks, as one struggles against the numbness of frost.

It was like a pall, like descending clouds of smoke, seemed to be actually present in the absurdly lofty room--this belief in what she stood for, in what she said she stood for.
"I don't believe you," I proclaimed, "I won't....