They struggled on the floor in the dim light, panting and gasping, but speaking no word.

The strength of the elder man was unnatural--it frightened the younger and stronger combatant.
At last Guy Oscard got his knee on his father's neck, and bent his wrist back until he was forced to let go his hold on the bottle.
"Get back to bed!" said the son breathlessly.

"Get back to bed." Thomas Oscard suddenly changed his tactics.

He whined and cringed to his own offspring, and begged him to give him the bottle.

He dragged across the floor on his knees--three thousand pounds a year on its knees to Guy Oscard, who wanted that money because he knew that he would never get Millicent Chyne without it.
"Get back to bed!" repeated Guy sternly, and at last the man crept sullenly between the rumpled sheets.
Guy put things straight in a simple, man-like way.