"If you let that wounded man go from this house to-day you will
regret it to the end of your life." Her face was dead-white; her
breath was coming thickly; her eyes were fastened in hatred on her
brother's face.

"Kindly try and control yourself, Angela," Kingsnorth said sternly.
"You should consider my position a little more--"

"YOUR position? And what is HIS? You with EVERYTHING you want in
life--that man with NOTHING. He is being hounded to prison for what?
Pleading for his country! Is that a crime? He was shot down by
soldiers--for what? For showing something we English are always
boasting of feeling OURSELVES and resent any other nation feeling
it--patriotism!"

"Stop!" commanded Kingsnorth.

"If you take that sick, wretched man out of this house it will be a
crime--" began Angela.

Kingsnorth stopped her; he turned to the magistrate: "Kindly take
the man away."

Roche moved to the window.

Angela's heart sank. All her pleading was in vain. Her voice
faltered and broke:

"Very well. Then take him. Sentence him for doing something his own
countrymen will one day build a monument to him for doing. The