Sometimes he got up, and pushed them back with his hands.
The sun had shifted his setting as the winter drew in, and for a few minutes every afternoon laid a thong of red light upon his wall.

He looked at it sternly while it burned.

It looked back sternly at him.
He had no wish to be free now, no wish for anything.
The doctor came to see him, and looked closely at him, and spoke kindly to him.

He was interested in the young Englishman, and, like several of the warders, was convinced of his innocence.
Michael took no notice of him, barely answered his questions.

He was impatient of any interruption.
He was absorbed in one thought.
He had loved Fay for a long time.