He fought savagely with it; at a turn in the road it slipped and fell, all but carrying him under.

He was in such a frenzy that if he had had a pistol he would have shot it.

The chemical action of his crisis precipitated in a black mass all the poison his nature had been absorbing in those selfish, supercilious years.

So long as that poison was held in suspense it was imperceptible to himself as well as to others.

But now, there it was, unmistakably a poison.