Ralph Stock

“ Bettington's hands fluttered to his knees and caressed them nervously.
“Deuced bad,” he said; “I don't know when it has been so bad. Bagnall failed me—Christmas, you know, and all that sort of thing. If it hadn't been for that young fellow——”
“The pyjama man,” said the girl absently.
“The who? Yes, come to think of it, he was in pyjamas—I should have been at the bottom of those infernal steps still. Nice young fellow that; bit outspoken, but do believe he's a gentleman, and strong—very strong ”

“ It's a fight to a finish, and the best man wins. Bettington never learned to fight; never had to; and that's how he's got left. It's a pity—a great big pity.”
Sprague succeeded in refraining from comment.
“Now, Meg's got sand,” the other continued, “and she's got something else that I can't put a label on. Anyway, we don't grow 'em like her over our side. That's why she's got me—got me cinched, Mr. Sprague; and that's why, if a man came between me and her, I'd crush him”—he brought a fleshy fist down into the palm of his other hand—“like that!” ”