He drew back to give himself more room. Coles was a little unsteady upon his feet. They could face each other now upon more level terms. Rouse watched him closely, wondering what his next move would be. His own strength was giving out and he had no intention of wasting it in fruitless attacks. Then Coles began to spar for an opening. Rouse waited dubiously, not knowing quite what this portended. He received a blow full in the mouth with the utmost surprise, and found himself falling backwards against the wall again. He strove to stand upright. Coles’ chin showed again for one moment clearly exposed, and he struck at it with all the enthusiasm which he still possessed, but the blow only half landed. Then he became suddenly angry at the absurdity of fighting in the preposterous amount of space afforded by Coles’ study. In his last tumble he had barked his leg against a fallen chair. Unless his eyesight deceived him there was not a picture in all the room that was hanging straight. Blood had splashed across a part of the wall-paper. But he remembered again that after all it had been he who had started the fight. It was his own fault. Coles was coming again. Rouse strove to stand steadily. His face was to be the target again. He could see severe intention in Coles’ face. But now resolve came to him anew. He would not be knocked out. He would fight to the end. So long as he stood up he could not be considered beaten. He looked for Coles with fiery eyes and smote at him. Coles was grinning. As he smote that grin vanished suddenly, and he knew that he had got home. He steadied himself and smote again. Again he landed nicely. Then it was Coles’ turn. He struck cleanly, and once again Rouse tumbled sideways. His hand went out and found the wall, and he steadied himself like that for a moment, then turned and looked for Coles again. He began to wish he had taken off his coat. He might have done better. He was uncomfortably hot. There was a nasty taste in his mouth. His eyes were closing. His head sang. He was giddy. Coles caught him in the face. He rocked a little more. At last he began to slither foolishly down the wall. Half-way he stopped, one hand propping him up. He tried to give himself a shove off towards Coles, and floundered towards him hopefully. Coles loomed up against him with fists like small hams feeling their way towards his face again. One of them landed with a resounding smack. He sank down on to the floor and stayed there for a moment. At last he got up. Coles said nothing. He just got ready to hit again.