But an overwhelming desire to investigate a little further kept her dallying.
She had an ardent longing to see the faces of the antagonists.

Later she marvelled at her own temerity, but at the time this overmastering desire was the only thing she knew.
She came out of the sea, reached her faithful attendant Cinders, slipped on the mackintosh, and advanced nearer still to the little group of officers upon the beach, buttoning it mechanically as she went.
Ah, she could see them now! One faced her--a mean-visaged man, fierce, ferret-like, with glaring eyes and evil mouth.

She hated him at sight, instinctively, without question.
He was thrusting savagely at his opponent, whose back was towards her--a slim, straight back familiar to her, so familiar that she recognized him beyond all doubting, no longer needing to see his face.

And yet, involuntarily it seemed, she drew nearer.
He was fencing without impetuosity, yet with a precision that even to her untrained perception expressed a most deadly concentration.

Lithe and active, supremely confident, he parried his enemy's attack, and the grace of the man, combined with a certain mastery that was also in a fashion familiar to her, attracted her irresistibly, held her spellbound.