It is impossible to express with what acuteness and adequacy I felt after the encounter with the him, not only on the back of my head, but all along the inner core of my spine. The sensation was like being touched in the marrow of my bone with some pungent and devouring acid, and it set the very hairs on my neck on edge. I was conscious of my growing fear of what could happen as I tried deliberately to fend off his threats.
But this was not the worst of it. It would not be so easy to make sure that as yet he knew me no more than if he had never seen me in his life. It seemed enough that I was his only visitor, for he was in hiding and the marsh country was nothing more but a bleak place summoned by nettles. Being alone afoot and in mind gave me a sense of helplessness and danger, acknowledging that with each step I took towards home, perhaps I should fear you above my recent revelation. With each heaving leap and roll, I managed with effort to make the best use of my legs.
During that stretch home, I came to realize that although the horrible young man could kill me, you had the authority to murder me time and time again, for you brought me up by hand. My heart, thumping like a blacksmith at rigorous labor, kept me alarmed and alert. Still, it was no use of me to compare the deaths to be produced by you two. I was to acquire the physical and mental embellishment of a young, yet fierce hound, boldly advancing to the front steps of the place I knew respectively as home.
Decent Expectations, eh?
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