I believe it.
But, even if the attack had been on Hurd's part, I should still find excuses, because of the system, and because of Westall's hatefulness." He shook his head again.
"Because a man is harsh and masterful, and uses stinging language, is he to be shot down like a dog ?" There was a silence.

Marcella was lashing herself up by thoughts of the deformed man in his cell, looking forward after the wretched, unsatisfied life, which was all society had allowed him, to the violent death by which society would get rid of him--of the wife yearning her heart away--of the boy, whom other human beings, under the name of law, were about to separate from his father for ever.

At last she broke out thickly and indistinctly: "The terrible thing is that I cannot count upon you--that now I cannot make you feel as I do--feel with me.

And by-and-by, when I shall want your help desperately, when your help might be everything--I suppose it will be no good to ask it." He started, and bending forward he possessed himself of both her hands--her hot trembling hands--and kissed them with a passionate tenderness.
"What help will you ask of me that I cannot give?
That would be hard to bear!" Still held by him, she answered his question by another: "Give me your idea of what will happen.

Tell me how you think it will end." "I shall only distress you, dear," he said sadly.
"No; tell me.