an easy transition.

"You've boxing gloves, haven't you, Jack?" asked Natica. "Get them for
Mr. Hartopp. Let's see him demonstrate Mr. Fitzsimmons' lucky punch."

Drayton turned without a word, and made as if to go upstairs. At the
door he turned. "Come on, Hartopp," he said. "I'll lend you a rowing
jersey."

"You clear a place in the drawing room, Percy," said Natica, briskly.
"Be sure that the shades are drawn. It would be awful to be raided by
the police." And I obediently piled the gilt parlor furniture in
corners.

The Hartopp fluttered anxiously around Natica the while. She was a
woman, and she was beginning to half understand. "Please," she said,
touching Natica's arm. "Jim's been drinking, and he's very rough when
he's been drinking. We've all been foolish, but only foolish,
remember. Jim and I sail for London next week. Just let us slip away
now, and forget all about it."

Natica laughed. Her eyes were on the door. "Remember, we've only been
foolish," repeated the Hartopp. "Only foolish, that's all." She went
to Natica and shook her arm roughly; there were feet upon the stairs.
"You silly," she snapped. "You ought to be glad you're married to a
gentleman. He's different from all the others. I can tell you that,
and I know. And I tell you that Jim's been drinking. Jack will----"

Natica's pose stiffened, but she did not look around. "Yes, _Jack_
will what?" she said, coldly.

The Hartopp flushed. "He'll be hurt," she finished, weakly. Then, as
the two from upstairs entered, she whispered: "He'll be hurt worse
than you are now."

The "Boiler-plate" looked very foolish in an old Yale rowing shirt,
with the "Y" stretched taut across his ponderous chest. He had a pair
of arms like a blacksmith. Jack Drayton had taken off his coat and was
in his shirt sleeves. He never looked at Natica, nor at the Hartopp;
but he tossed me a stopwatch and told me to keep time.

"We'll box five rounds, Percy," he said.

Natica clapped her hands. "What fun!" she cried. "Jack, you're boxing
against my champion."

The "Boiler-plate," who had been regarding the work at hand with much
gravity, again allowed his countenance to be relaxed by the old,
foolish grin. "Oh, I say," he interposed. "That's all right, but so
long as Maisie is in the room I'm fighting for her--she's my wife, you
know."

The Hartopp went to Natica with a softened gleam in her eyes; "I saw a
telephone in the hall," she said. "I'm going out to call a cab