She went about, intentlooking and self-possessed, trim and fine, concealing her emotions whatever they were, as the realities of her position opened out before her. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. A cry was then raised by the leaders to attack Wild's house, and the fury of the mob was instantly directed to that quarter. Moreoever, it had cost her a whipping and several days’ imprisonment in her cell on bread and water. One more passer-by; and always would she remember his patience and tenderness and disinterestedness. You don't realize what you have done. But what did the occupant of the box care? The laugh was always with the dead: they were out of the muddle. You see to what it has brought you.
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