His face became transformed, alive with a passion uncanny in its recklessness and purpose.

It was a brain-storm indeed, but it had behind it a normal power, a moral force which was not to be resisted.
"None of your sickly melodrama here.

Take out of your pocket the pistol you carry and give it to me," Crozier growled.

"You are not to be trusted.

The habit of thinking you would shoot somebody some time--somebody you had injured--might become too much for you to-day, and then I should have to kill you, and for your wife's sake I don't want to do that.