Sara , tell us that story of the Serpent Woman I heard you tell one day last summer . '' The Story Girl began it glibly . But before she had gone far with it , I , who was sitting beside her , felt an unaccountable repulsion creeping over me . For the first time since I had known her I wanted to draw away from the Story Girl . Looking around on the faces of the group , I saw that they all shared my feeling . Cecily had put her hands over her eyes . Peter was staring at the Story Girl with a fascinated , horror-strickened gaze . Aunt Olivia was pale and troubled . All looked as if they were held prisoners in the bonds of a fearsome spell which they would gladly break but could not . It was not our Story Girl who sat there , telling that weird tale in a sibilant , curdling voice . She had put on a new personality like a garment , and that personality was a venomous , evil , loathly thing . I would rather have died than have touched the slim , brown wrist on which she supported herself . The light in her narrowed orbs was the cold , merciless gleam of the serpent 's eye . I felt frightened of this unholy creature who had suddenly come in our dear Story Girl 's place . When the tale ended there was a brief silence . Then Aunt Janet said severely , but with a sigh of relief , `` Little girls should n't tell such horrible stories . '' This truly Aunt Janetian remark broke the spell . The grown-ups laughed , rather shakily , and the Story Girl -- our own dear Story Girl once more , and no Serpent Woman -- said protestingly , `` Well , Uncle Roger asked me to tell it . I do n't like telling such stories either . They make me feel dreadful .
Do you know , for just a little while , I felt exactly XXXXX a snake . ''
at before beside from like on over since that to