Boyce left Wellingsford that afternoon, and for many months I heard little about him.

His astonishing avowal had once more turned topsy-turvy my conception of his real nature.

I had to reconstruct the man, a very complicated task.

I had to reconcile in him all kinds of opposites--the lusty brute and the sentimental lover; the physical coward and the baresark hero; the man with hell in his soul and the debonair gentleman.

After a vast deal of pondering, I arrived not very much nearer a solution of the problem.