Explore "The Scales of Justice" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Once more the listener felt the blood flowing into her face, but she could not withdraw now, and must remain where she was. She would try to forget all she heard. And yet she was prejudiced almost fanatically on the side of the accused. With all the tumultuous Highland blood in her veins, she had a fine contempt for a coward. But she did not believe that George Drummond was a coward. No man with such a voice could possibly be craven. It was illogical, no doubt, but her instinct told her she was right.
"As you say," George said, "this letter has been delayed. I underhand that Colonel Courtenay has gone up-country with a small field force. And this is what he writes: