you pretend he’s got out? By God, if you have, I’ll murder you! I’ve been ready for this all night!”
And he stood with his back to the window, his pistols raised, and his head carried proudly - happily - like a man whose self-respect was coming back to him after many days. Harris shrank before his fierce eyes and pointed barrels. The Portuguese, however, had merely given a characteristic shrug, and was now rolling the inevitable cigarette.
“Your common sense is almost as remarkable as your sense
of a man than you. Give me the wretch who has beaten men to death before my eyes; there’s something great about a monster like that, there’s something to loathe. His assistant is only little - mean - despicable!” Loud and hurried in its wrath, low and deliberate in its contempt, all this was uttered