About this book

***He is of no age, this man, and of no race, and of no station, and of no name***. His beard, which might have been gray with washing, has been allowed to grow as it would, and is meshed and matted; his eyes are bleary and puffed; his brow is broad and high and full, but hidden by an absurdly shapeless hat, and the snow, melting from its crown, has run down in muddy rivulets across his face and into his beard, veining his sodden countenance with angling streaks of brown. **He seems numbly fascinated, without apparently knowing Why, in the weird scene which spreads below him.*-- Excerpt from pg.2 ''The Enemy''***