It was in her veins, in her bones, in the roots of her hair.
Mentally she assumed the biblical attitude of mourning--the covered face, the rent garments; the sound of wailing and lamentation filled her head.
But her teeth were violently clenched, and her tearless eyes were hot with rage, because she was not a submissive creature.

The protection she had extended over her brother had been in its origin of a fierce an indignant complexion.

She had to love him with a militant love.

She had battled for him--even against herself.

His loss had the bitterness of defeat, with the anguish of a baffled passion.