Johnyxxx
Senior Member
- Joined
- Oct 28, 2014
- Member Type
- Interested in Language
- Native Language
- Czech
- Home Country
- Czech Republic
- Current Location
- Czech Republic
Hello.
Do I understand it correctly that the bold text means "it was all he could do to look at the thing again?"
He went to the window and stared and reeled... and he could not stop staring. The space across the street, usually occupied by a row of small bungalows, bulked now with black shadow, a gruesomely distorted shape that fanned upward against the stars in a clearing sky, a faint fantasmic illusion that bore the unmistakable outlines of the Heathcliff building. As Clem Lewis stared, eyes frozen with terror in the pallid mask of his face, the building stared back, grim, many-eyed, eery and threatening.
The air whistled from Clem's lungs, and he staggered back, thrusting himself away from the sight. But he had to look. He dragged his eyes around in their sockets. The light of crescent moon glittered on the damp roofs of a row of neat little bungalows.
THE office staff whispered behind Clem's back. They talked about his service in the war and wondered if it had affected him. He's so strange. He's so nervous. Do you suppose he's got combat fatigue or whatever it is veterans of the combat zone are supposed to have? Clem needs a rest. Maybe he went back to work too soon, after he got out of the service.
Manly Banister, Six Flights to Terror, 1946.
Thank you.
Do I understand it correctly that the bold text means "it was all he could do to look at the thing again?"
He went to the window and stared and reeled... and he could not stop staring. The space across the street, usually occupied by a row of small bungalows, bulked now with black shadow, a gruesomely distorted shape that fanned upward against the stars in a clearing sky, a faint fantasmic illusion that bore the unmistakable outlines of the Heathcliff building. As Clem Lewis stared, eyes frozen with terror in the pallid mask of his face, the building stared back, grim, many-eyed, eery and threatening.
The air whistled from Clem's lungs, and he staggered back, thrusting himself away from the sight. But he had to look. He dragged his eyes around in their sockets. The light of crescent moon glittered on the damp roofs of a row of neat little bungalows.
THE office staff whispered behind Clem's back. They talked about his service in the war and wondered if it had affected him. He's so strange. He's so nervous. Do you suppose he's got combat fatigue or whatever it is veterans of the combat zone are supposed to have? Clem needs a rest. Maybe he went back to work too soon, after he got out of the service.
Manly Banister, Six Flights to Terror, 1946.
Thank you.
