Nor, to such a pass had he come, did it seem much use to be a coward.

The dog whose last hope has gone will gather himself together for a final fling at his persecutors; the poltroon driven back against the wall, unable to retreat farther, will sometimes turn and make a stand such as he never deemed himself capable of before.

And so Captain Oliphant, because he could do nothing else, plucked up a little courage and groped about in the dark for some new fragments of his lost manhood.
He would go back and face the worst.

If he was to be ruined, he would pull the mask off himself, and not leave it to Armstrong or any one else to do it.

Whatever befell, nothing could well be more wretched than the plight in which he now stood.