William Patterson Atkinson, The Short-story (1916)
“ You do not know me yet; thank God, you do not know me!""I know you," replied the visitant, with a sort of kind severity or rather firmness. "I know you to the soul.""Know me!" cried Markheim. "Who can do so? My life is but a travesty and slander on myself. I have lived to belie my nature. All men do; all men are better than this disguise that grows about and stifles them. You see each dragged away by life, like one whom bravos have seized and muffled in a cloak. ”
