"But I have with you," replied the other.
Eddie's hands flew out of his pockets, and Dot uttered a tiny cry as the pale-faced youth came toward them.
The woman, Edna, left her place at the rail. She did not appear to hurry, but suddenly she was between Eddie and the other youth.
"One moment," she said.
Eddie glared at her. His eyes were hot and red with fury. In that mad, whirling eternity just before the first blow is struck, every man is wildly, gloriously primitive. In the blackness of club and nail, of tooth and claw, woman's business was to stand aside till the cry of the victor split the silence. Woman and foe never appeared simultaneously upon the horizon of the primitive warrior, and so, harking back to the Stone Age, the brain of the fighting man is unprepared for the active presence of a woman on the battle-ground.
Edna, tall and smiling, stood between the two young men. The black silk cape lay over her arm now. It had fallen to the deck with Eddie's first decisive movement.
"You get the hell out of this." Eddie spoke quietly between his teeth.
The woman laughed and flung the cape across the arm of the sleek-haired boy. "Here's Miss Higgins' cape," she said. "Tell her that Carbona is great stuff."
She laughed again, and forcing her arm through his, walked him back toward his crowd. He was an easier subject than Eddie would have been. The youth had not really wanted to fight. His fear of Eddie's contempt had made him aggressive. He welcomed the peace-making efforts of Edna Driggs.
Eddie Collins didn't. "Your friend is pretty God-damn interfering," he said to Dot.
"Don't be sore," she begged. "I'm glad he didn't hit you."
