A hezrou—a demon like a man-sized toad with spikes running down its back and arms and hands in place of forelegs—turned the handle and threw open the door.

Hoping here to end / Intestine war in heaven, the arch foe subdued.

I went down the dark road between the hawthorn hedges puzzling over the why of like, repeating SAMUEL to myself and aloud and listening to the rolling wonder in its sound that had charmed her soul and led her life in tragic places. SAMUEL! There was a rolling wonder in the sound. Aye, there was!

“That's only dirt—it will brush off.” But he looked at me with his haggard hopeless eyes and said— “It is mud. Black, slimy, horrible mud. I am defiled.”