THE EQUINOX
“Of course."
“ And she preferred to stay ? "
" Of course."
“ Here’s the Cirque, anyhow.”
" We’ll hope for a clean fight.”
The second round was just over as they took their seats.
Sam Hall was solid and furious, looking an ounce or two
overtrained; Joe Marie looked hardly human, his black skin
gleaming, his arms so long as to seem almost disproportionate.
He seemed apathetic; he reminded one of indiarubber.
It was not till the sixth round that any warm exchanges
took place.
Then Ida sat up.
Joe had sent a sharp upper
cut to the Englishman’s lip.
She dug her nails into Rolles’
hand, that lay idly on her knee.
Sam Hall returned a blow
on the heart that sent the negro staggering across the ring.
He was after him like a flash, thinking to finish the fight;
but the black countered unexpectedly hard, and the round
finished in a clinch.
In the seventh round both men seemed cautious
and
afraid of punishment.
Joe Marie, in particular, seemed half
asleep.
The lazy grace of his feints was admirable; he was
tiring the Englishman, and paying nothing for the advantage.
In the ninth round Sam Hall reached his eye; but he only
laughed, and leapt at his opponent, rushing him to the ropes
despite the extra stone and a half.
In the furious exchanges
both men gave and took a great deal of punishment.
In a
sense, it was bad boxing.
The tenth round showed Joe Marie awake at last.
He led
repeatedly, and thrice got home on the white man‘s face.
Ida was rubbing her body against Edgar’s like a cat.
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