But courage failed me.

He might come stealthily back at night to plunge his long, crooked farces into my throat, poisoning my blood with fever and delirium and black death.

So I left him alone, and glanced furtively and fearfully at him, hoping that he had not divined any thoughts; thus we lived on unsocially together.

More companionable, but still in an uncomfortable way, were the large crawling, running insects--crickets, beetles, and others.

They were shapely and black and polished, and ran about here and there on the floor, just like intelligent little horseless carriages; then they would pause with their immovable eyes fixed on me, seeing or in some mysterious way divining my presence; their pliant horns waving up and down, like delicate instruments used to test the air.