Her skin prickled. She painted on the Root Beer Lip Smackers lip gloss that Shari had bought her last Christmas and rouged her cheeks as she had long ago as she once had for Sebastian. She felt a new warmth in her blood, a strange sense of elation crept over her. That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. He looked around, and as he heard that deafening shout,— as he felt the influence of those thousand eyes fixed upon him,—as he listened to the cheers, all his misgivings—if he had any—vanished, and he felt more as if he were marching to a triumph, than proceeding to a shameful death.
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