It was not possible for her to be one of the horde of mere spectators.

Wheresoever she moved there was some occult stirring of the mental, and even physical, air.

Her pulses beat too strongly, her blood ran too fast to allow of inaction of mind or body.

When, in passing through the village, she had seen the broken windows and the hanging palings of the cottages, it had been inevitable that, at once, she should, in thought, repair them, set them straight.

Disorder filled her with a sort of impatience which was akin to physical distress.