“Good gracious, no!”
“Then it is my turn, George, and I won’t be balked.”
“I don’t think any one is capable of balking you, cara mia. Certainly I, for one, should never dream of trying. But I don’t feel as if I could co-operate.”
“I never asked you to.”
“No, you certainly never did. You are perfectly capable of doing it alone. I think, with your leave, if you have quite done with your prize-fighter, we will drive back to London. I would not for the world miss Goldoni in the Opera.”
So they drifted away; he, frivolous and dilettante, she with her face as set as Fate, leaving the fighting men to their business.
And now the day came when Cribb was able to announce to his employer that his man was as fit as science could make him.
“I can do no more, ma’am. He’s fit to fight for a kingdom. Another week would see him stale.”
The lady looked Spring over with the eye of a connoisseur.
“I think he does you credit,” she said at last. “Today is Tuesday. He will fight the day after tomorrow.”