He had tugged at his throat until the strings of his woolen shirt loosened, displaying the great, sloping muscles of his neck and shoulders, white as milk and hard as iron.

His eyes rolled restlessly to and fro as he paced the floor.

His panther-like step was full of a terrible suggestiveness.

The breath of the boys at the window came quicker and quicker.

They saw he was working himself into a rage that threatened momentarily to break forth into a violence.