My pulse rushed up in an unwonted manner, yet my rage mounted with it.

She looked me bravely in the eyes.
"For my sake," she begged.
"I would kill him for your sake!" I cried, trying to free my arm without hurting her.
"Hush!" she said, and laid her fingers lightly on my lips.

I could have kissed them, had I dared, even then, in my rage, the touch of them was so sweet, so very sweet.

"Please, please," she pleaded, and she disarmed me by the words, as I was to discover they would ever disarm me.
I stepped back, separating from her, and replaced the knife in its sheath.

I looked at Wolf Larsen.