In fact, Ralph deserted himself.

As he saw the fine, timid face of the girl so long oppressed flush and shine with interest; as he looked at the rather low but broad and intelligent brow and the fresh, white complexion and saw the rich, womanly nature coming to the surface under the influence of applause and sympathy--he did not want to beat.

If he had not felt that a victory given would insult her, he would have missed intentionally.

The bulldog, the stern, relentless setting of the will, had gone, he knew not whither.

And there had come in its place, as he looked in that face, a something which he did not understand.