'Don't box tonight.'
'Oh—well! What will Bittenger think?'
Another pause.
'Never mind! You don't want me to box, really?'
'I don't want you to box—not tonight.' 'Agreed, my chuck!' And he kissed her again. He could well afford to be magnanimous.
Mr Bittenger ploughed the seas alone to New York.
But supposing that Vera had not interfered, what would have happened? That is the unanswerable query which torments the superstitious little brain of Vera.