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his face, and somewhat in the background.
"
Where's that bit of bread he's got to eat?" said a little ferret-faced
creature; and sought with his foot in the ashes of the adjacent bin.
Denton had a moment of internal debate. He knew the code of honour
requires a man to pursue a fight he has begun to the bitter end; but
this was his first taste of the bitterness. He was resolved to rise
again, but he felt no passionate impulse. It occurred to him--and the
thought was no very violent spur--that he was perhaps after all a
coward. For a moment his will was heavy, a lump of lead.
"'Ere it is," said the little ferret-faced man, and stooped to pick up a
cindery cube. He looked at Denton, then at the others.
Slowly, unwillingly, Denton stood up.
A dirty-faced albino extended a hand to the ferret-faced man. "Gimme
that toke," he said. He advanced threateningly, bread in hand, to
Denton. "So you ain't 'ad your bellyful yet," he said. "Eh?"
Now it was coming. "No, I haven't," said Denton, with a catching of the
breath, and resolved to try this brute behind the ear before he himself
got stunned again. He knew he would be stunned again. He was astonished
how ill he had judged himself beforehand. A few ridiculous lunges, and
down he would go again. He watched the albino's eyes. The albino was
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