The great veins in Gascoyne's forehead stood out like knotted cords; yet there was no scowl or frown on his face.

Henry's brows, on the contrary, were gathered into a dark frown.

His teeth were set, and his countenance flushed to deep red by exertion and passion.
Strange to say, the widow made no effort to separate the combatants; neither did she attempt to move from her seat to give any alarm.

She sat with her hands on the table clasped tightly together, gazing eagerly, anxiously, like a fascinated creature, at the wild struggle that was going on before her.
Again and again Henry attempted, with all the fire of youth, to throw his adversary by one tremendous effort, but failed.

Then he tried to fling him off, so as to have the power of using his fists or making an overwhelming rush.