It is the instinct to take one's fling, to get out of the rut, to claim one's innings against the powers that be--Nature, or the law, or convention." "I know all that--I never blame them!"-- cried Marcella--"but just now it is so monstrous--so dangerous! Westall specially alert--and this gang about! Besides, I got him work from Lord Maxwell, and made him promise me--for the wife and children's sake." Wharton shrugged his shoulders.
"I should think Westall is right, and that the gang have got hold of him.

It is what always happens.

The local man is the catspaw .-- So you are sorry for him--this man ?" he said in another tone, facing round upon her.
She looked astonished, and drew herself up nervously, turning at the same time to leave the room.

But before she could reply he hurried on: "He--may escape his risk.

Give your pity, Miss Boyce, rather to one--who has not escaped!" "I don't know what you mean," she said, unconsciously laying a hand on one of the old chairs beside her to steady herself.