s hold. He was beginning to breathe hard besides. A little longer, and
his blows would lack the proper steam. Finally Courtlandt broke away of
his own accord. His head buzzed a little, but aside from that he had
recovered. Harrigan pursued his tactics and rushed. But this time there
was an offensive return. Courtlandt became the aggressor. There was no
withstanding him. And Harrigan fairly saw the end; but with that
indomitable pluck which had made him famous in the annals of the ring, he
kept banging away. The swift cruel jabs here and there upon his body began
to tell. Oh, for a minute's rest and a piece of lemon on his parched
tongue! Suddenly Courtlandt rushed him tigerishly, landing a jab which
closed Harrigan's right eye. Courtlandt dropped his hands, and stepped
back. His glance traveled suggestively to Harrigan's feet. He was outside
the "ropes."

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Harrigan, for losing my temper."

"What's the odds? I lost mine. You win." Harrigan was a true sportsman. He
had no excuses to offer. He had dug the pit of humiliation with his own
hands. He recognized this as one of two facts. The other was, that had
Courtlandt extended himself, the battle would have lasted about one
minute. It was gall and wormwood, but there you were.

"And now, you ask for explanations. Ask your daughter to make them."
Courtlandt pulled off the gloves and got into his clothes. "You may add,
sir, that I shall never trouble her again with my unwelcome attentions. I
leave for Milan in the morning." Courtlandt left the field of victory
without further comment.

"Well, what do you think of that?" mused Harrigan, as he stooped over to
gather up the gloves. "Any one would say that he was the injured party.
I'm in wrong on this deal somewhere. I'll ask Miss Nora a question or
two."

It was not so easy returning. He ran into his wife. He tried to dodge her,
but without success.

"James, where did you get that black eye?" tragically.

"It's a daisy, ain't it, Molly?" pushing past her into Nora's room and
closing the door after him.

"Father!"

"That you, Nora?" blinking.

"Father, if you have been fighting with _him_, I'll never forgive you."

"Forget it, Nora. I wasn't fighting. I only thought I was."

He raised the lid of the trunk and cast in the gloves haphazard. And then
he saw the paper which had fallen out. He picked it up and squinted at it,
for he could not see very well. Nora was leaving the room in a temper.