See ?" and he pointed to where O'Connell, with a soldier each side of him, was slowly moving down the long avenue.
The door of the room opened and Angela came in hurriedly and went straight to where the two men stood.

There was the catch of a sob in her voice as she spoke to the magistrate.
"Are you taking that poor wounded man to prison ?" "The doctor says he is well enough to be moved," replied Roche.
"You've not seen the doctor.

I've just questioned him.

He told me you had not asked his opinion and that if you move him it will be without his sanction." Kingsnorth interrupted angrily: "Please don't interfere." Angela turned on him: "So, it's YOU who are sending him to prison ?" "I am." Angela appealed to the magistrate.
"Don't do this, I entreat you--don't do it." "But I have no choice, Miss Kingsnorth." "The man can scarcely walk," she pleaded.
"He will receive every attention, believe me, Miss Kingsnorth," Roche replied.
Angela faced her brother again.
"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.