" "Too proud, eh?" rejoined the prize-fighter. His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting. CHAPTER XVII. '—'They can't,' says I. . The contest was now carried on between Rowland and Darrell. She felt a little ashamed of herself, a bit of a hypocrite. Ain't we, partner?" he added, appealing to Langley, whom punch had made rather dozy. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. The doctor will be here to see you in five minutes.
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