The big laborer was staring with all his soul at Derek.

And the thought of the big laborer sitting there knocked and knocked at Felix's heart mournfully, miserably.

Here, in a white-washed room on a narrow bed, the body of the big laborer lay, wrapped in a sheet.

In the early morning light the big laborer's square, stubborn face, with its strange, dog-like eyes, had a sodden, hungry, lost look.

The big laborer was sitting on the stool in his cell, leaning back against the wall, his hands loose and open at his sides.