His throat was sore with much speaking, his mind was barren with thinking on the unthinkable, and his spirits were dashed with a bitter sense of futility.

He had honestly done his best.

So far his conscience was clear; but as he reviewed the past in detail, his best seemed a very shoddy compromise.

It was comfort to see the rugged face of Wratislaw again, though his greeting was tempered by mistrust.

The great man had refused to speak for him and left him to fight his own battles; moreover, he feared the judgment of the old warrior on his conduct of the fight.