“He’s a coward,” said Perrin. “I should be like that. He shirks each stroke because he’s afraid of knocking the second bow’s back.”
“Yes. That’s it.”
“The weakest man is always put in the bow. He has to jump out with the painter.”
“The most intelligent man, probably.”
“No. I shouldn’t say the most intelligent. The most sensitive.”
“What do you make of Cammock’s back?”
“Cammock’s a fine fellow.”
“Isn’t it strange that he should be what he is?”
“After mixing—— Good Lord, what ruffians he’s mixed with.”
“I should like to know how he comes by it. I’m a great believer in heredity. I wonder what his people were. He’s got refinement, too, in a curious sort of way.”