it had begun to be present to him after the first fortnight,
it had broken out with the oddest abruptness, this particular wanton wonderment:
it met him there--and this was the image under which he himself judged the matter,
or at least, not a little, thrilled and flushed with it--very much as he might have been met
by some strange figure, some unexpected occupant,
at a turn of one of the dim passages of an empty house.
the quaint analogy quite hauntingly remained with him,
when he didn't indeed rather improve it by a still intenser form:
that of his opening a door behind which he would have made sure of finding nothing,
a door into a room shuttered and void, and yet so coming,
with a great suppressed start, on some quite erect confronting presence,
something planted in the middle of the place
and facing him through the dusk.
~ henry james the jolly corner