"Sure," said Turkey. "Don't worry; they'll get longer."
Lovely looked across at the opposite camp. The adherents of the Gutter Pup were patting him on the back, exulting over his work.
"What's he done?" said Lovely, angrily, to himself; "that sort of work wouldn't hurt a fly."
"Time!" said the Welsh Rabbit.
Lovely walked slowly to meet the Gutter Pup, bursting with irritation. He waited, and as the Gutter Pup attacked he plunged forward, taking a blow in the face, and drove his fist joyfully into the chest before him. The Gutter Pup went back like a tenpin, staggered, and kept his footing. When he came up there was no longer a smile in his eyes.
They threw boxing to the winds. It was give and take, fast and furious, back and forth against the ropes, and rolling over and over on the ground.
"Time!" announced the Welsh Rabbit, and Hickey had to pry them apart.
Lovely thought the intermission would never end. He sat stolidly, paying no heed to his seconds' prayers to go slow, to rest up this next round, to make the Gutter Pup work. He would fight his fight his own way, without assistance.
"Time!" said the Welsh Rabbit.
Lovely started from his corner for the thing that came to meet him without yielding, exchanging blows without attempt at blocking, rushing into clinches, locking against the heaving chest, looking into the strange, wild eyes, pausing for neither breath nor rest.