Explore "The White Glove" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Clifford Marsh stood back so that the others might precede him. After all, he was a little weaker and more dazed than he thought. The want of food, the bitter disappointment and the subsequent excitement had been too much for him. Time was when he had gone through critical dangers without so much as a qualm. But it was all different now, for his head was in a whirl, and his heart beating almost to suffocation.
"Steady, steady," he whispered to himself. "A brave, resolute man may snatch a great prize from fortune here, and hitherto I have not lacked the necessary qualities. For Madeline's sake I must be firm."