The morning had touched him, but not as it had thrown over Dyck its mantle of peace.

Mallow also had enjoyed the smell and feeling of it all, but with this difference--it had filled him with such material joy that he could not bear the thought of leaving it.

It gave him strength of will, which would add security to his arm and wrist.

Yet, as he looked at Dyck, he saw that his work was cut out for him; for in all his days he had never seen a man so well-possessed, so surely in hand.
Dyck had learned swordsmanship with as skilled a master as Ireland had known, and he had shown, in getting knowledge of the weapon, a natural instinct and a capacity worthy of the highest purpose.

He had handled the sword since he was six, and his play was better than that of most men; but this was, in fact, his first real duel.