He tied the wrist laces for them, and followed them out into the moonlit night, his face a copper-coloured gargoyle illuminated by that fixed and joyous grin.

David saw the look and wondered if it would change when he sent the Little Missioner bowling over in the snow, which he was quite sure to do, even if he was careful.

He was a splendid boxer.

In the days of his practice he had struck a terrific blow for his weight.

At the Athletic Club he had been noted for a subtle strategy and a cleverness of defence that were his own.