“Have a look at page twenty-six,” said Bowden. “There’s something funny going on in ‘The Raven.’ ” Victor opened the book and scanned the page. He read the first verse out loud: Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, o’er a plan to venge myself upon that cursed Thursday Next— This Eyre affair, so surprising, gives my soul such loath despising, Here I plot my temper rising, rising from my jail of text. “Get me out!” I said, advising, “Pluck me from this jail of text— or I swear I’ll wring your neck!”
