There are things in that paper that nobody knows but me, or ever will. Behind that outside pattern the dim shapes get clearer every day.
It is always the same shape, only very numerous. And it is like a woman stooping down and creeping about behind that pattern.
I pulled and she shook, I shook and she pulled, and before morning we had. peeled off yards of that paper. A strip about as high as my head and half around the room. And then when the sun came and that awful pattern began to laugh at me, I declared I would finish it to-day !
