the Spider was somewhat exotic as to socks and tie, and he seemed a
trifle irked by stiff cuffs and collar as he sat staring at the green
and yellow tablecloth and doing his best not to tread upon the pink
hearthrug.

"Joe," said Ravenslee, "this is Spider Connolly, who knocked out Larry
McKinnon at San Francisco last year in the sixty-ninth. Spider, I want
you to shake hands with--"

"Bo," exclaimed the Spider, rising reverently and taking a step toward
Joe's massive figure, quite forgetful of the pink hearthrug now, "you
don't have t' tell me nothin'. I guess I know th' best all-round
fightin' man, the greatest champion as ever swung a mitt, when I see
him! T' shake his hand'll sure be--"

"Young feller, me lad," cried the Old Un, reaching out nimbly and
catching the Spider's extended hand, "you got a sharp eye, a true eye--a
eye as can discrimpinate, like--ah, like a flash o' light. You're right,
me lad, I was the best fightin' man, the greatest champeen as ever
was--sixty odd years ago. Ho, yus, I were the best of 'em all, an' I
ain't t' be sniffed at now. So shake me 'and, me lad--an' shake--hard!"

The Spider's grim jaw relaxed, and his eyes opened very wide as the Old
Un continued to shake his hand up and down.

"But, say," said he faintly at last, "I don't--"

"No more don't I," nodded the Old Un, "what's the old song say:

"'I don't care if it rains or snows
Or what the day may be
Since 'ere's a truth I plainly knows
Love, you'll remember me.'"

"But say," began the bewildered Spider again. "Say, I reckon--"

"So do I," nodded the Old Un:

"'I reckon up my years o' life
An' a good long life 'ave I.
Ye see, I never had a wife,
P'raps that's the reason why.'

"So take it from me, young feller, me cove, don't 'ave nothin' to do
with givin' or takin' in marriage."

"Marriage?"

"Marriage ain't good for a fightin' cove--it spiles him, it shakes
'is nerve, it fair ruinates 'im. When love flies in at the winder,
champeenships fly up the chimbley--never t' come back no more. So beware
o' wives, me lad."

"Wives!" repeated the Spider, lifting free hand to dazed brow, "I--I
ain't never--"

"That's right!" nodded the Old Un heartily, shaking the Spider's
unresisting hand again, "marriage ain't love, an' love ain't marriage.
Wot's the old song say:

"'Oh, love is like a bloomin' rose
But marriage is a bloomin' thorn.
An 'usband 's full o' bloomin' woes
An' 'caves a bloomin' sigh each mor