eard saying.

"I? Make a fuss? No; why the devil should I? Go on!"

"Third round!" said the master.

Then for a moment Sally's eyes opened. In one of the corners sat
Morrison on the knee of an attendant, who was sponging the blood from
his face, whilst another flapped a towel before him. She took a deep
breath as he rose slowly to his feet and came forward to meet his
man. Directly the shuffling sound of feet began again, she closed
her eyes once more, holding with fingers numbed and cold to the fringe
of the curtain beside her. All the sounds then trooped in pictures
before her mind. When she heard the stamp of the foot, the dull
slapping thud of the heavy blow, and the moaning rush of breath, she
saw that bleeding face falling out of the sickly lamplight into the
sooty shadows.

At last she could bear it no longer. Her imagination was gloating
in her mind over the horrors that it drew. She forced her eyes to
look. It was better to see the worst than conjure still worse terrors
in her mind. She let her sight rush to those two half-naked bodies;
it sped unerringly to the spot like a filing of iron to the magnet's
teeth.

Now Tucker had regained the advantage which that momentary
interruption of Traill's had lost him. His man was swaying before
him as a sack of sawdust swings inert to the vibrating motion of speed.
His blows were falling short and fast. No great force was behind them.
He had no time to give them force. But they were bewildering--the
stones of hail upon the naked eyes. Morrison dropped slowly and
slowly backwards, one staggering step at a time; his defenceless arms
held feebly like broken straws before his face. From nose to chin,
from chin to neck, and from the neck in a spreading stream across
his chest, the blood--black in that light--trickled like molten glue.
In his eyes, she could see that questioning glare, the stupid
senseless gaze of a man drunk with exhaustion. And still the blows
fell to the murmuring accompaniment of that gloating crowd--fell
steadily, shortly, tappingly, like the beating of a stick upon dead
meat.

"He's got him now, by Jove! he's got him now," she just heard Traill
muttering, and then the yellow lamplight slowly went out into the
shadows; the deep, black curtain of the sky slowly descended over
the whole scene; she felt a cold wind full of moisture fanning gently
upon her forehead and her lips; she heard the muffled sounds going
further and further away as though so