The Red Room


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began to cough and splutter again.  
"
Why don't you drink?" said the man with the withered arm, pushing the  
beer toward him. The man with the shade poured out a glassful with a  
shaking hand, that splashed half as much again on the deal table. A  
monstrous shadow of him crouched upon the wall, and mocked his action  
as he poured and drank. I must confess I had scarcely expected these  
grotesque custodians. There is, to my mind, something inhuman in  
senility, something crouching and atavistic; the human qualities seem  
to drop from old people insensibly day by day. The three of them made me  
feel uncomfortable with their gaunt silences, their bent carriage,  
their evident unfriendliness to me and to one another. And that night,  
perhaps, I was in the mood for uncomfortable impressions. I resolved to  
get away from their vague fore-shadowings of the evil things upstairs.  
"If," said I, "you will show me to this haunted room of yours, I will  
make myself comfortable there."  
The old man with the cough jerked his head back so suddenly that it  
startled me, and shot another glance of his red eyes at me from out of  
the darkness under the shade, but no one answered me. I waited a minute,  
glancing from one to the other. The old woman stared like a dead body,  
glaring into the fire with lack-lustre eyes.  
"If," I said, a little louder, "if you will show me to this haunted room  
of yours, I will relieve v you from the task of entertaining me."  
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