"Why, when I went down--went out of the house. Drive him back to hell when he tempts you to dishonour your body in that way--the foul spirit who hates our Lord. Not a sound, on the way, had passed between us, and I had wondered-- oh, HOW I had wondered!--if he were groping about in his little mind for something plausible and not too grotesque. --One! Two! Look out! --Oh, Cripes, I'm drownded! --One! Two! Three and away! --The next! The next! --One! UK! --Stephaneforos! His throat ached with a desire to cry aloud, the cry of a hawk or eagle on high, to cry piercingly of his deliverance to the winds.