No man moved.
"Fire on them!" cried Colina. "I order it! I take the responsibility."
They still hung back. Macfarlane could be seen attempting to expostulate with her.
"Don't speak to me!" cried Colina. "When you find robbers in your house you shoot them down! You're afraid! I will go myself!"
All in a breath she came flying across the road. Ambrose, surprised, fell back a step from the door. Before he could recover himself she stood in the middle of the shed facing them with blazing eyes.
She had risen hastily; her glorious hair was twisted in a loose coil and pinned insecurely; the habit she had thrown on was still open at the throat.
She had caught up a riding-crop; the knuckles that gripped it were white. Ambrose, admiring her in an odd, detached way, was reminded of Bellona, the goddess of anger.
"What does this mean?" she cried.
"What you see," said Ambrose coldly.
"Get out!" she cried. "All of you! I order it!"