She did not know that anything could so stir that sleeping, primal something deep down in the depths of her womanhood, that she could stand thus watching them with fierce, burning eyes.
Twice before had she seen them face each other in anger, twice had she sought to interfere, to prevent the thing to be read in their eyes. Now she stood still and rigid and yearned with all of the passion no longer dormant within her to see one man beat another man down mercilessly.
Embry struck desperately, Steele struck, they both reeled back. Embry struck again, viciously snarling, no longer a man of ice and repression. Then for the second time Bill Steele struck as Beatrice had not even guessed he could. Embry was flung back half across the room, his mouth cut by the fierce fist, to lie prone.
The light of battle in Embry's eye flickered and failed and went out, replaced at last by his fear. For one must have sought far throughout the world this morning to have found the man who could have stood up longer before the searing rage which clamoured through every muscle of Bill Steele's body. Beatrice, seeing the look in his eyes, wondered, marvelled, and in the end her breast rose with pride that that look in those eyes was there because of her.
Steele picked up the two guns, dropping them into his coat pockets. Embry rose heavily.
"Joe Embry," said Steele then, his tone curt and crisp. "I have had a long talk with Mrs. Denham. She has told me a great deal, all that she knows of you and your hold on Banks and your damned schemes.
