Yet, in spite of all this, some vague instinct of the baser male animal remained with them, and they were moved to a mutually aggressive attitude in the presence of the female.
One word more, and the opening chapter of a sylvan Iliad might have begun.

But this modern Helen saw it coming, and arrested it with an inspiration of feminine genius.

Without being observed, she disengaged her knife from her bosom and let it fall as if by accident.

It struck the ground with the point of its keen blade, bounded and rolled between them.

The two men started and looked at each other with a foolish air.
Curson laughed.
"I reckon she can take care of herthelf," he said, extending his hand to Low.