“Come out in the entry,” pleaded Goose. “Don’t scare the women!”
Larry reluctantly went with them, casting glances over his shoulder at his prospective opponent.
“The mug’ll t’ink I’m afraid o’ him,” said he. When they reached the entry he tugged viciously at the breast of his dress coat. “Damn it,” growled he, savagely, “the t’ing ain’t got no buttons on! I don’t want to get no blood on me shirt front.”
“Keep yer eyes on Foley,” whispered Mike to McGonagle. “I’ll look out for Daily.”
“D’ye t’ink ye kin hold him even? He pulls the beam fifty pounds more’n youse.”
“I wouldn’t care,” smiled Mike, “if he was as big as the side o’ a house. The bigger he is the harder he’ll fall.”
“Youse’re a nice-lookin’ pill, ain’t ye?” were Kelly’s first words. “Floor Manager, too,” sneeringly; “why, youse don’t know a lady when ye see one.”
“She’s crooked!” remarked Larry, “and youse know she is.”
“You’re a liar,” snarled Martin. “And even if she is, she’s better than some women I know of. She don’t live with—”
He did not finish but leaped back and threw up his guard. Larry, his face wrinkling with a grin, was upon him, striking with the speed, precision and power of a practiced boxer. The exchange was heavy and rapid. The men panted and laboured for breath, cursing each other between their teeth. The policemen were clattering up the steps from the lower passage; the doorway leading to the ballroom was banked solid with the strained, anxious faces of partisans; women screamed shrilly; the music stopped with a crash.