had surrendered to her, abandoned all that
portion of his life, and with this one last fight would never fight
again.

"Mrs. Silverstein doesn't like prize-fighting," she said. "She's down on
it, and she knows something, too."

He smiled indulgently, concealing a hurt, not altogether new, at her
persistent inappreciation of this side of his nature and life in which he
took the greatest pride. It was to him power and achievement, earned by
his own effort and hard work; and in the moment when he had offered
himself and all that he was to Genevieve, it was this, and this alone,
that he was proudly conscious of laying at her feet. It was the merit of
work performed, a guerdon of manhood finer and greater than any other man
could offer, and it had been to him his justification and right to
possess her. And she had not understood it then, as she did not
understand it now, and he might well have wondered what else she found in
him to make him worthy.

"Mrs. Silverstein is a dub, and a softy, and a knocker," he said good-
humoredly. "What's she know about such things, anyway? I tell you it
_is_ good, and healthy, too,"--this last as an afterthought. "Look at
me. I tell you I have to live clean to be in condition like this. I
live cleaner than she does, or her old man, or anybody you know--baths,
rub-downs, exercise, regular hours, good food and no makin' a pig of
myself, no drinking, no smoking, nothing that'll hurt me. Why, I live
cleaner than you, Genevieve--"

"Honest, I do," he hastened to add at sight of her shocked face. "I
don't mean water an' soap, but look there." His hand closed reverently
but firmly on her arm. "Soft, you're all soft, all over. Not like mine.
Here, feel this."

He pressed the ends of her fingers into his hard arm-muscles until she
winced from the hurt.

"Hard all over just like that," he went on. "Now that's what I call
clean. Every bit of flesh an' blood an' muscle is clean right down to
the bones--and they're clean, too. No soap and water only on the skin,
but clean all the way in. I tell you it feels clean. It knows it's
clean itself. When I wake up in the morning an' go to work, every drop
of blood and bit of meat is shouting right out that it is clean. Oh, I
tell you--"

He paused with swift awkwardness, again confounded by his unwonted flow
of speech. Never in his life had he been stirred to such utterance, and
never in his life had there been cause to be so stir