"Stay, that must be him wiping his face!" He went towards him, and saw he was right.

The young man he had taken looked wildly up like a trapped animal into his face, and the Doctor could not suppress an exclamation when he saw the likeness to his father.
"Is your face very bad ?" said Sam quietly.
The other turned away in silence.
"I'll tie it up for you, if you like," said Sam.
"It don't want no tying up." He turned his face to the wall, and remained obstinately silent.

They perceived that nothing more was to be got from him, and departed.

But, turning at the door, they still saw him crouched in the corner like a wild beast, wiping his bruised face every now and then with Sam's handkerchief, apparently thinking of nothing, hoping for nothing.

Such a pitiful sight--such an example of one who was gone beyond feeling pity, or sorrow, or aught else, save physical pain, that the Doctor's gorge rose, and he said, stamping on the gravel,-- "A man, who says that that is not the saddest, saddest sight he ever saw, is a disgrace to the mother that bore him.