Explore "The Beetle" by Richard Marsh on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
That the house over the way was tenanted was plain to all the world -- at least one occupant sat gazing through the window of the first floor front room. An old woman in a cap -- one of those large old-fashioned caps which our grandmothers used to wear, tied with strings under the chin. It was a bow window, and as she was seated in the bay looking right in our direction she could hardly have failed to see us as we advanced -- indeed she continued to stare at us all the while with placid calmness. Yet I knocked once, twice, and yet again without the slightest notice being taken of my summons.
Sydney gave expression to his impatience in his own peculiar vein.