The circle broke and Olva saw lying his length on the ground, half-stunned, clothed only in a torn shirt of bright blue, a stout heavy figure--once obviously, from the clothes flung to one side, a policeman, now with his large red face in a muddy puddle, his fat naked legs bent beneath him, his fingers clutching dirt, nothing very human at all.

Town cads of the worst! Some brute now was raising his foot and kicking the bare flesh! Instantly the world was on flame for Olva.

Now again, as once in Sannet Wood, he must hit and hit with all his soul.

He broke, like a madman, into the heart of the crowd, sending it flying.

There were cries and screams.
He was conscious of three faces.