Explore "The Beetle" by Richard Marsh on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The weather out of doors was in tune with my frame of mind -- I was in a deuce of a temper, and it was a deuce of a night. A keen northeast wind, warranted to take the skin right off you, was playing catch-who-catch-can with intermittent gusts of blinding rain. Since it was not fit for a dog to walk, none of your cabs for me -- nothing would serve but pedestrian exercise.
So I had it.