She tried not to pant, not to reveal herself, and she began to shake. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. The Tigress is second-hand, built for coast-trade. "It's Mrs. Capes and her father stood up, and her father made a belated movement toward the curtain. “I have not left this apartment myself. At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures. What’s that?” They both stood listening. She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance.
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