The crowd, fascinated by her beauty, which the tempest of passion had transfigured into terrible and compelling majesty, was completely under her control.

She stayed on, facing that throng of men, many of whom she knew by name, until Lorry's body was taken away.

She was about to go into the house, as the crowd began quietly to disperse, when there arose a murmur that made her turn quickly toward the doors.

There was Estelle, all disheveled and bloodstained.

Her face was like death; her movements were like one walking in a deep sleep as she descended to the lawn and came toward them.
"Where is he?
Where is he ?" she wailed, pushing this way and that through the crowd, her hands outstretched, her long fair hair streaming like a bridal veil.