Milton's party retreated. They smiled no more; they were horror-stricken.
Squads of "workers" now moved down the aisles; in one they surrounded two people, a tall, fair girl and a young man.
"Why, it's Grace!" exclaimed Maud.
Ben turned quickly, "Where?"
They pointed her out.
"She can't get away. See! Oh, boys, don't let them—"
Ben pushed his way toward her, his face set in a fierce frown, bitter, desperate.
Grace stood silently beside one of the elders; a woman exhorter stood before her. Conrad, overawed, had fallen into a trembling stupor; Grace was defenseless.
The elder's hand hovered over her head, on her face a deadly pallor had settled, her eyes were cast down, she breathed painfully and trembled from head to foot. She was about to fall, when Ben set his eyes upon her.
"Get out o' my way," he shouted, shouldering up the aisle. His words had oaths, his fists were like mauls.