It looked as if he would be caught on the trestle, but he meant to go on.

He did not argue about it; he was rather moved by instinctive stubbornness.

At moments of strain one does not argue and logic has no appeal.

Character counts for all, and Lister followed his bent.

His job was urgent and must be carried out.
When he reached the bridge he saw white threads of water between the timbers of the open frame.