“Will you give me some lessons?”
Johnny’s heart leaped. Would he?
“Su—sure,” he stammered, “any—any time.”
“All right; to-morrow morning at nine. What say?”
“That suits me.”
“It’s a go,” she said, holding out her hand. Johnny gripped it warmly, and as he did so, he realized that there was nothing soft or flabby about that hand.
“You see,” she half apologized, “I have to keep in trim for my stunts, and nothing will do it quite like boxing.”
“Uh-huh!” Johnny scarcely heard her. Her hand had made him think of the diamond ring. Should he ask her about it now? It seemed what his old professor would call the psychological moment. Yet he did not want to ask her. He was already enjoying her friendship, knew he would enjoy it more and more and did not wish to risk losing it. Then he thought of Pant and his problem. Perhaps she could aid them in solving that.
“Say,” she whispered suddenly, “what was that blood red light?”
“I, I don’t know,” Johnny replied.