Savagery in savage days had its excuse.

This is the beast sunk into the gibbering, degenerate ape." Penzance came and spent hours of each day with him.

Part of his rage was the rage of a man, but he was a boy still, and the boyishness of his bitterly hurt youth was a thing to move to pity.

With young blood, and young pride, and young expectancy rising within him, he was at an hour when he should have felt himself standing upon the threshold of the world, gazing out at the splendid joys and promises and powerful deeds of it--waiting only the fit moment to step forth and win his place.
"But we are done for," he shouted once.

"We are done for.