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“Villiers, that woman, if I can call her a woman, corrupted my soul. The night of the wedding I found myself sitting in her bedroom in the hotel, listening to her talk. She was sitting up in bed, and I listened to her as she spoke in her beautiful voice, spoke of things which even now I would dare not whisper in the blackest night, though I stood in the midst of a wilderness.” — Arthur Machen
Villiers, that woman, if I can call her a woman, corrupted my soul. The night of the wedding I found myself sitting in her bedroom in the hotel, listening to her talk. She was sitting up in bed, and I listened to her as she spoke in her beautiful voice, spoke of things which even now I would dare not whisper in the blackest night, though I stood in the midst of a wilderness.