The class laughed, a few putting their hands to their foreheads in a military salute to mock her. “I—I am sorry—I didn’t explain. “Have you heard things?” The tears stood in her eyes. Between her and the fair, far prospect of freedom and self-development manoeuvred Mr. Sebastian dug through the viscous layers of foul-smelling clay with a shovel, each successive insertion creating an obscene sucking noise that ate at her sanity. From the further end of the apartment came the low music of a violin. " The walls appeared to rock; bulging shadows reached out; the candle flames became mocking eyes; and the blood drummed thunderously in Spurlock's ears.
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