They had turned round and round, so that Maradick was confused and could not remember where the door was. Then the other man’s hand was pressing on his throat so that he was already beginning to be stifled; then he felt that he was dizzy. He was swimming on a sea, lights flashed in and out of the darkness; the window made a grey square, and through this there seemed to creep innumerable green lizards—small with burning eyes; they crawled over the floor towards him. He began to whimper, “No, Morelli, please . . . my God . . . my God!” His shoulder burnt like fire; his brain began to reel so that he fancied that there were many people there crushing him. Then he knew that Morelli was slowly pressing him back. One hand was about his neck, but the other had crept in through his shirt and had touched the skin. Maradick felt the fingers pressing over his chest. Then the fingers began to pinch. They caught the flesh and seemed to tear it; it was like knives. All his body was on fire. Then the fingers seemed to be all over his limbs. They crept down to his hip, his thigh. They bit into his flesh, and then he knew that Morelli was pressing some nerve in his hip and pushing it from the socket. At that moment he himself became aware, for the first time, of Morelli’s body. He pressed against his chest and his fingers had torn the man’s clothes away. Morelli’s chest was hairy like an animal’s and cold as marble. He was sweating in every pore, but Morelli was icy cold. He dug his nails into the flesh, but they seemed to slip away. His arm was right round Morelli’s body; the cold flesh slipped and shrunk beneath his touch. His mouth was against Morelli’s neck. He had a sudden wild impulse to bite. He was becoming a wild beast. . . . Then Morelli seemed to encircle the whole of him. Every part of his body was touched by those horrible fingers—his arms, his neck; it was as though he were being bitten to death. Then he felt in his neck teeth; something was biting him. . . . He screamed again and again, but only a hoarse murmur seemed to come from his lips. He was still struggling, but he was going; the room seemed full of animals. They were biting him, tearing him; and then again he could feel the soft fingers stealing about his body. A curious feeling of sleepiness stole over him. The pain in his shoulder and his arm was so terrible that he wanted to die; his body twitched with a fresh spasm of pain. Things—he did not know what they were—were creeping up his legs; soon they would be at his chest. He knew that they were both naked to the waist. He could feel the blood trickling down his face and his arms. . . .