He was a pure instinct, without reason or feeling.

His body, hard and wonderful in itself, cleaved against the struggling body of the other man; not a muscle in him relaxed.

He was quite unconscious, only his body had taken upon itself to kill this other man.

For himself, he had neither feeling nor reason.

He lay pressed hard against his adversary, his body adjusting itself to its one pure purpose of choking the other man, resisting exactly at the right moment, with exactly the right amount of strength, the struggles of the other, silent, intent, unchanging, gradually pressing its knuckles deeper, feeling the struggles of the other body become wilder and more frenzied.