J. D. Beresford

“ It was that word at last which took possession of me, so that I responded to it even as that horrible unfurnished room responded. "The late occupier ... the recent occupier ... occupier ..."; with every repetition the force of the response grew, till every energy in bare wall, plank floor and bleak fire-place echoed and trembled. ”

“ If it had been the most meagre of cottages, two rooms and the rent paid every week, she would have been happy. This threat of dun and bailiff overbore her strength.
Why would he fight? Why did he find incomprehensible glory in menacing society? Why would he not accept defeat, and take a lower place where they could find security? They could live on so little. ...
The old obsession had taken shape in him with that word. "I will occupy," became his phrase; and, later, he spoke of himself as "the occupier." ”

“ Backwards I slid through a rush of imperfectly visualised action, in which blurred and dim shapes leapt, staggered and trembled past in a blind streak of furious involution, grey with the speed of confused, blended colour. Until that swift, sickening retrogression was done, I hung giddily between being and consciousness, but when the awful journey had been accomplished I lost sense of being. ”