He drew his hand across them; then looked curiously at the dew upon it.

"I have not done this," he said simply, "since a night at Preston when I wept with rage.

In my country we love as we hate, with all the strength that God has given us.

The brother of my spirit is to me even as the brother of my flesh....

I used to dream that my hand was at your throat or my sword through your heart, and wake in anger that it was not so ...