Her eyes were ablaze, her breath came in gusts.
Without waiting to see where he went with his burden, she rushed down the broad steps and through the crowd, pushing them this way and that.

She faced Arden Wilmot--not a lady, but a woman, a flaming torch of outraged human feeling.
"You lie!" she cried, and he seemed to wither before her.

"You lie about him and about her! You, with the very clothes you're dressed in, the very liquor you're drunk with, the very pistol that shot him down, paid for by _her_ earnings! He never offended you--not by look or word.

You murdered him--I saw--heard.

You murdered the man she was to marry, the man she loved--murdered him because she loved him.