"If I choose to wallow in the mire, what the devil is it to you?
You didn't send that accursed fool Kelly round for your own pleasure, I'll take my oath.

What is it you want me for?
Tell me straight!" His voice rose on the words.

His hands were clenched; yet still he wore that half-frightened look as of an animal that will spring when goaded, not before.

His hair hung black and unkempt about his burning eyes.

His face was drawn and deadly pale.
Burke stood like a rock, confronting him.