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g-tights which showed up every rippling muscle, he was horrible and sinister, a machine built for destruction, a human panther. So he appeared to Sally, but a stout and bulbous eyed man standing at her side was not equally impressed. Obviously one of the Wise Guys of whom her friend the sporting office-boy had spoken, he was frankly dissatisfied with the exhibition. "Shadow-boxing," he observed in a cavilling spirit to his companion. "Yes, he can do that all right, just like I can fox-trot if I ain't got a partner to get in the way. But one good wallop, and then watch him." His friend, also plainly a guy of established wisdom, assented with a curt nod. "Ah!" he agreed. "Lew Lucas," said the first wise guy, "is just as shifty, and he can punch." "Ah!" said the second wise guy. "Just because he beats up a few poor mutts of sparring-partners," said the first wise guy disparagingly, "he thinks he's someone." "Ah!" said the second wise guy. As far as Sally could interpret these remarks, the full meaning of which was shrouded from her, they seemed to be reassuring. For a comforting moment she ceased to regard Ginger as a martyr waiting to be devoured by a lion. Mr. Butler, she gathered, was not so formidable as he appeared. But her relief was not to be long-lived. "Of course he'll eat this red-headed gink," went on the first wise guy. "That's the thing he does best, killing his sparring-partners. But Lew Lucas..." Sally was not interested in Lew Lucas. That numbing fear had come back to her. Even these cognoscenti, little as they esteemed Mr. Butler, had plainly no doubts as to what he would do to Ginger. She tried to tear herself away, but something stronger than her own will kept her there standing where she was, holding on to the rope and staring forlornly into the ring. "Ready, Bugs?" asked Mr. Burrowes. The coming champion nodded carelessly. "Go to it," said Mr. Burrowes. Ginger ceased to pluck at his gloves and advanced into the ring. 4 Of all the learned professions, pugilism is the one in which the trained expert is most sharply divided from the mere dabbler. In other fields the amateur may occasionally hope to compete successfully with the man who has made a business of what is to him but a sport, but at boxing never: and the whole demeanour of Bugs Butler showed that he had laid this truth to heart. It would be too little to say that his bearing was confident: he comp
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