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THREE:Lucy obeyed the summons with alacrity, but, as she presented the beverage, a slight start and a sudden blush, told how much the appearance of Wells surprised her. The galleyman drank off the ale, and then, walking to the farther end of the kitchen, where Lucy stood. "Here, pretty maiden," said he, in his usual loud and joyous tone, "fill it again;" and, as she turned to the cask to replenish the jug, he added, in a voice that met her ear alone:��He brought his fist down heavily on the sill. He was just as confident, just as resolute as before, but now for the first time he realised all that the battle would mean. He could fight this cruel, tough thing only by being cruel and tough himself. He must be ruthless as the wind that blustered over it, hard as the stones that covered it, wiry as the gorse-roots that twisted in its marl. He must be all this if he was even to start the fight. To begin with, he would have to make his mother and Harry accept the new state of things. They must realise that the old soft life was over, that they would have to work, pull from the shoulder, sacrifice a hundred things to help fulfil his great ambition. He must not spare them��he must not spare anyone; he would not spare them, any more than he would spare himself.

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