Shake
'ands, can't yer!"
Jim came reluctantly forward into the centre of the ring with a
knotted hand held grudgingly before them. The other took it and
dropped it as if it were filth.
"That's right," said the master, "now, come on. Two minutes a
round--minute wait. Not more 'n ten rounds. And God save us if the
coppers don't 'ave us by then. Come up--up with yer flippers! Time!"
He tipped a leering wink to the crowd.
The two men edged together, their arms bent in defensive, one
clenched fist held menacingly before them. Sally tried to take her
eyes away, but a morbid fascination held them. The anticipation of
that first blow dragged her as the butcher drags his sheep to the
shambles. Every glance she stole in their direction was reluctant;
but all power of volition seemed to have left her. The sight of those
two half-stripped bodies, gleaming in the gas-light, had
concentrated in her eyes. At that moment they filled, obsessed her
vision.
"There's not much style about them," muttered Traill. He was leaning
far out now, his elbows on the window-sill, his hands supporting his
face--the attitude of concentrated interest. "You'll see, they'll
go on dancing round each other like this for the whole of the first
round.
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