that's nothing," she said indifferently, jerking down her sleeve.
"I'm a little undertrained now; been putting in all my time on leg work.
That's what counts in foot-ball.

"Foot-ball!" I questioned, astonished. "Why, I didn't know--"

"That I was on the team? Surest thing you know; that's why I've got all
this mop of hair--comes below my collar--see?"

Her collar, indeed! It was easy to see that, if unbound, it would reach
considerably below her waist. But _foot-ball_! Why, she must mean
basket-ball, of course. I opened my mouth to remind her, when she
proceeded:

"But I was going to tell you about this prize fight. Well, this fight
was just a little one, you know. Purse of eighteen dollars; and we had
to chip in afterward with an extra three to get Mug Kelly--that's the
Charlestown Pet, you know--to stand the gaff for a second round. Why, he
was all in on the count at the end of the first round--what do you think
of that?"

"But I say, you know--" I began, but she lifted her hand.

"I know--I know what you're going to say, Dicky; you think we were a
bunch of easy marks, that's what you think. But how could we tell what
my room-mate was going to do to the Pet--we couldn't, you know."

"Your room-mate!" I exclaimed aghast. "A--an other young lady--in a
pugilistic encounter? Oh, I say!"

She chuckled. "G'long; stop your kidding!" And she kicked playfully at
me. Then she assumed a mincing air--finger on chin, lips pursed, and
eyes rolling upward, you know.

"Yes, another sweet young peacherino--Miss Billings' little room-mate--a
beef that hits the beam at about two-sixty--Little Lizzie, you know."

"Lizzie!" I repeated vaguely.

"Oh, say, Dicky, cut it out; let me finish. Well, another minute, and
the Pet would have been put to sleep, but just then the coppers nailed
us." She added gloomily: "And that's what queered me with Sis. Fierce,
ain't it?"

She sighed and her beautiful lashes drooped sadly. By Jove, I was so
jolly floored I couldn't manage a word. I knew, of course, that my heart
was broken, but it didn't matter. I loved her just the same; I should
always love her; and she had tried to let me know she loved me better
than any man she had ever met. What the deuce did anything else matter,
anyhow? We would marry and go out on a ranch or something of that sort,
where the false, polished what-you-call-it of civilization didn't count,
and no rude rebuff or sneer of society would ever chill her warm
impu