"Because I was a fool."
"Better give things their right names. You were a damned villain."
A dull flush rose to the cheeks of the prizefighter. "All right. Let it go at that. I guess you're right. What I want to know now is whether you're going to stand for Pasquale's play. He's got one wife already—half a dozen, far as I know. You going to let him put this wedding farce over without a kick?"
"Can I stop it?"
"You can register a roar, can't you?"
"Would it do any good? Did yours?"
"You're different. He needs you to drill this ragged bunch of hoboes he calls an army. Pasquale has a lot of respect for you. He talked a lot about you before you came."
"If you want to know, I've already spoken to him about it."
"What did he say?"
"Gave me to understand that if I'd attend to my business he'd mind his. And I'm going to do it," concluded Holcomb with sharp decision.