But he, the imp in him elated with the prospect of trouble, insisted on urging in closer.

Saxon clung to Billy, who slowly and methodically elbowed and shouldered a way for her.
"No place for a girl," he grumbled, looking down at her with a masked expression of absent-mindedness, while his elbow powerfully crushed on the ribs of a big Irishman who gave room.

"Things'll break loose when they start pullin'.

They's been too much drink, an' you know what the Micks are for a rough house." Saxon was very much out of place among these large-bodied men and women.
She seemed very small and childlike, delicate and fragile, a creature from another race.

Only Billy's skilled bulk and muscle saved her.
He was continually glancing from face to face of the women and always returning to study her face, nor was she unaware of the contrast he was making.
Some excitement occurred a score of feet away from them, and to the sound of exclamations and blows a surge ran through the crowd.