His fists were clenched.

His chest rose and fell heavily with his labored breathing.

His face worked with emotion.

With trembling limbs and twitching muscles, he crouched like some desperate creature at bay.
But, save for the wretched man himself, there was in that shabby, dingy-papered, dirty-carpeted, poorly furnished apartment no living thing.
Suddenly, the man laughed;--and it was the reckless, despairing laughter of a soul that feels itself slipping over the brink of an abyss.
With hurried step and outstretched hands, he crossed the room to snatch a bottle of whisky from its place beside the lamp on the bureau.

With trembling eagerness, he poured a water tumbler half-full of the red liquor.