His struggles were so violent, that, being a man of tremendous strength, it was some time before they could master him, and it required the combined efforts of all the four partners to put him into irons. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. She made a few protests, a few excuses for her action in accepting him, a few lame explanations, but he did not heed them or care for them. He was always visualizing the Hand whenever he let his gaze rest upon the horizon. He crawled underneath the covers with her.
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