The Beetle

-- Once more I stood in that chamber of my humiliation and my shame. And once again I was conscious of that awful sense of the presence of an evil thing. How much of it was fact, and how much of it was the product of imagination I cannot say; but looking back, it seems to me that it was if I had been taken out of the corporeal body to be plunged into the inner chambers of all nameless sin. There was the sound of something flopping off the bed onto the ground, and I knew that the thing was coming at me across the floor.

If you are in the mood to read a book with this style of prose, you should search out Marsh's novel of ancient evil, virgin sacrifice, shape-shifting, Parliamentary politics, and love among the upper crust.