He stared at the dog, who was lying stretched out on the dirty floor, his nose between his toes.

It cannot truthfully be said that the resolve that was forming in Jeremy's head had its birth in any fine, noble idealisms.

It was as though some bully, seizing his best marbles, had said: "I'll give you these back if you hand over this week's pocket-money!" His attitude to the bully could not truthfully be described as one of homage or reverence; rather was it one of anger and impotent rebellion.
He loved Hamlet, and he loved his mother more than Hamlet; but he was not moved by sentiment.

Grimly, his legs apart, his eyes shut tight, as they were when he said his prayers, he made his challenge.
"I'll give you Hamlet if you don't take Mother--" A pause.

"Only I can't cut Hamlet's throat.