Whilst she's still cross-examinin' me, in comes no less than Kid Roberts himself. I was watchin' close, and I seen the deep breath he took before he gazed at me and then back to her with a sudden smile. Joan has stood up the minute he come in, and them sapphire eyes of hers showed that the Kid had registered heavy with our fair young visitor. Kid Roberts was a natural lady assassin, if they ever was one. Lookin' from one to the other of 'em give me the blues—not that I had my fears about the Kid forgettin' Dolores. It just happened to bring to my mind what a fat chance I had of ever grabbin' off for myself anyone like either Dolores or Joan, and right then and there I knew that nothin' less than a duplicate of 'em would do.
In talkin' about his future plans, the Kid tells Joan how tickled he'll be wken he has fought Knockout Pierce and retired, as whilst he liked boxin', he hated the prize ring and its "sordid, bestial atmosphere!" as he called it.
"Oh, I'm so glad to hear you say that, Mister Halliday!" says Joan, callin' him by his real name like he asked her. "I wish my little brother could hear those sentiments coming from you, the world's champion boxer. You know"—she smiles cutely—"you're a god to him; his room is literally covered with your pictures from the sporting magazines!"
"He is a boxing enthusiast?" asks the Kid politely.
"He's a little imp!" laughs Joan. "But the best-hearted, cleanest, and manliest little fellow in the world," she adds proudly, lookin' from me to the Kid like she would love to see somebody try and deny it. "Jimmy has designs on the lightweight championship,"
