The man looked his surprise.
"But, ma'am, Mr. Donald——"
"Must be given his chance, Ragan," she interrupted.
"'His chance,' ma'am? Him carryin' a revolver?"
"There are worse things than revolvers, Ragan," said his mistress.
"Oh, my darlin' Miss Sophie," cried his wife.
She turned on them both.
"They'll capture him. They'll put him in jail. They'll sentence him— It's his way out. It mustn't—it mustn't be taken from him!" Her voice rose to a scream. She held out her arms to Clancy. "Don't let them—don't let them—" She could not finish; once again she tumbled to the floor.
Uncertainly, the servants looked at Clancy. It was the first time in her life that Clancy had come face to face with a great problem. Her own problem of the past week seemed a minor thing compared with this.