By Marion Fox
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Additional info for Ape's Face
And yet that he now tried to deny its existence added proof of that personality’s appearance. Then why had he matched it with the sensation in St. Michael’s church? No, he was on the downs now, and would only think about the fine effect upon eye and mind that such a noble picture presented. He was almost at the top: he would not look around or behind him until the summit was attained. The face of the down was rounded here, like the side of a giant sandcastle made by a giant pail, or else it was the end of some 48 titanic bastion.
He was almost at the top: he would not look around or behind him until the summit was attained. The face of the down was rounded here, like the side of a giant sandcastle made by a giant pail, or else it was the end of some 48 titanic bastion. Panting, he achieved the last strides quickly, and turning gazed around. He could have shouted for joy. The world for centuries lay stripped bare about him. In the whole of England he had never seen Nature so frankly self-confessed. His heart went out to her.
It seemed almost as though the house were full of something larger than it could contain. He half expected the walls to expand and fall outwards, yet again there was no sound, no visible or audible sign of pressure, nothing but a piercing cold and a certain suspicion of that earthen smell. There was something so strange about the odour that he could match it with nothing in his remembrance, try as he might. It was like several things and then again like none. It was not actually unpleasant, and yet it certainly was not desirable: certainly it was not unclean.
Ape's Face by Marion Fox