He had seen it balled to a small, angry fist, brown and dangerous; he
had seen it gripping the butt of a revolver, ready for the draw; he
had seen it tugging at the reins and holding a racing horse in check
with an ease which a man would envy; but never before had he seen it
turned palm up, to his knowledge; and now, because he could not speak
to her, according to his plan, he studied her thoroughly for the
first time.
Slender and marvelously made was that hand. The whole woman was in
it, made for beauty, not for use. It was all he could do to keep from
exclaiming.
She made a quick step toward him, eager, uncertain: "Pierre, I thought
you had left me--that you were gone, and angry."
Something caught on fire in Pierre, but still he would say nothing. He
was beginning to feel a cruel pleasure in his victory, but it was not
without a deep sense of danger.
She had laid aside her six-gun, but she had not abandoned it. She had
laid aside her anger, but she could resume it again as swiftly as she
could take up her revolver.
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