and self-control; for the first separation between civilization and
barbarism lies in this, that a civilized man is more readily quieted
after a stampede than is your barbarous one. Also he is not so wide open
to original surprise.

Wherefore, when Richard and Storri stood glaring at one another after
the episode of the hands, Richard had vastly the better of Storri, who
fell into a three-ply mood of amazement, fright, and rage. Finally,
Storri seemed to mutter threats while he retreated; and at the last got
himself out of the Harley front door in rather an incoherent way. It was
understood that he mumbled "Good-afternoon!" to Dorothy; and that "he
would talk with him again," to Richard; and all as he found his hat with
his left hand, the right meanwhile wrapped in a handkerchief which was a
smudge of blood. It could not be described as a graceful exit and had
many of the features of a rout; but it was effective, and took Storri
successfully into the street. Dorothy, still transfixed, turned with
round eyes to Richard:

"What was it you did?" she asked again.

"It was nothing," replied Richard with a shrug. "Or if anything, then a
piece of primitive sarcasm. Really, I'm sorry, since you were here; but
I had no choice."

"Will there be a duel?" gurgled Dorothy, catching her breath.

Dorothy, among other valuable ideas derived from novels, had gained a
middle-age impression that made flashing blades and gaping wounds a
romantic probability.