Rouse’s eyes recovered their normal vision slowly, and he looked before him. The walls seemed to be caving in, the chairs and the tables were dancing before his eyes. Coles looked disproportionate and rather horrible. He wondered if all this meant that he was going to be beaten. He could not believe it. To be licked by Coles, particularly when it was he himself who had started the fight, would be the last drop in his cup of bitterness. He dimly conceived what he would feel like when the news went round the school. What would Nick say when he crept back with a disfigured countenance and a look of shame? These thoughts passed through his mind at high speed but with peculiar clearness, and their effect was immediate. He poised himself squarely upon his feet. Somehow or other he had got to hit Coles on the chin, and if he could not do it by attack then he would do it by countering with all his force each time Coles himself came in. As he waited he furtively wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His lips were very bruised. One of his teeth was loose. He felt quietly angry and decidedly disappointed. But under no circumstances whatever would he give in. He was not going to admit defeat even if it were pointed out to him whilst he lay stiffly outstretched upon the floor. In point of fact he found himself wondering whether there would be room for him to lie stiffly on that particular floor anyway. He very nearly smiled at that. Then with sudden resolution Coles was moving forward. To Rouse he seemed strangely magnified. He came with a watchful attitude, his eyes brightly ashine, his clenched fists ready as if for a final blow. Rouse made preparation. With alarming suddenness Coles was on top of him. His fists were striking out with terrible intent. They were landing almost as they liked. Rouse rocked this way and that. At last he caught a sudden glimpse of Coles’ face for once temptingly exposed, and he hit out on the spur of the moment. His fist landed gloriously, and with delightful accuracy, upon the chin, and he gave a sigh of content. Whatever else happened now he had at least done what he had come for. He had hit Coles on the chin. The blow gave him a second’s respite. He had evidently hurt Coles a good deal. Yet in the end it availed him little. Before the faint smile of satisfaction had died from his lips Coles was up against him again, driving at his face with long arms that could not be properly avoided. He fell forward, and finding himself leaning against Coles’ waistcoat, struck at it cheerfully with each hand in turn, and heard Coles grunt distressfully. 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.
Rouse saw it coming. He would not be beaten. He struck out for himself gamely, missed, and hit again. Coles got in the way of that last one and received it on the chin, and Rouse tried to follow it up. He was half afraid that if Coles hit him again he would succumb. He drew away from the friendliness of the wall and tumbled against the table. They were out in the only clear space in the room again at last, and, facing Coles, he saw him preparing for a final blow; he put up his tired hands doggedly, leaned forward and struck at the dim shadow that was Coles, but the shadow slipped aside. Then he received a thudding blow in the mouth, heard himself give an unwitting sob of despair, felt himself falling. He was on the floor. He tried to get up. His limbs would not answer his behests. He kicked out uselessly with one leg trying to find support. At last he lay still.
When at length he came vaguely to his senses and looked round and about, Coles was sitting on the table staring at him sullenly.
He noticed with interest that Coles was marked about the face rather more heavily than he had supposed. Then he closed his eyes again. At last he struggled up. He looked for Coles politely, found himself standing with his back towards him, and turned.
His lips were swollen and difficult to control, so that he spoke with a certain indistinctness.