We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. He looked around, and as he heard that deafening shout,— as he felt the influence of those thousand eyes fixed upon him,—as he listened to the cheers, all his misgivings—if he had any—vanished, and he felt more as if he were marching to a triumph, than proceeding to a shameful death. He had not had time to aim the pistol. He was not particularly grateful for the present situation. He yelled at the girls for neglected to hand Lucy a pair of shorts or a sweater while they stood around in shock. Wild, he asserted, had robbed him of a large sum of money, and till it was restored he would never plead.
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