And as he went, a moan came to his lips, a strangled cry filled with an agony which told him he was breaking down.

He dreaded that.

It was the first law of his kind to stand up under blows, and he fought against the desire to reach out his arms to the sea and entreat Mary Standish to rise up out of it and forgive him.
He drove himself on like a mechanical thing.

His white face was a mask through which burned no sign of his grief, and in his eyes was a deadly coldness.

Heartless, the woman who had screamed might have said.