“I will have justice.” The girl’s voice was lifted with a note in it that thrilled to Ray’s heart, and made him start to his feet; Hughes laid a detaining hand upon his arm.
“I will have justice,” Denton repeated.
“And not sacrifice,” came in the girl’s tremulous accents.
“And not sacrifice,” followed devoutly from the man. “I will have justice, without the shedding of blood—it gets mixed; I can’t keep the Voice out!—and not sacrifice. What is justice? What is justice but sacrifice?”
“Yes, it is self-sacrifice! All our selfish wishes”—
“I have burnt them in a fire, and scattered their ashes!”
“And all gloomy and morbid thoughts that distress other people.”
“Oh, you know I wouldn’t distress any one! You know how my heart is breaking for the misery of the world.”
“Let her alone!” said old Hughes to Ray, in his thick murmur, as if he read Ray’s impulse in the muscle of his arm. “She will manage him.”
“But say those words over again!” Denton implored. “The Voice keeps putting them out of my mind!”