“Charlie’s a jailer, I tell ya,” Joe commented. “Yer under lock an’ key alla time yer scrappin’ for him. He don’t let you have no life. Don’t give you a chance to enjoy a dollar you make.” The white rock was sparkling on the ice in the glasses. “What’s t’use of makin’ a million if you’re tied down so’s you can’t enjoy it?”

Malone was for the spoils of victory. He expatiated further.

“A soldier gets a better break than a fighter wit’ Charlie. Even a sailor gits shore leave and can raise hell. No sense to fightin’ if there ain’t a little sport wit’ it. Ain’t ’at right, Babe?”

“Sure,” said Babe. “Charlie’s gettin’ away with murder. Tryin’ to make out like he was a saint.”

Joe snorted.

“Ain’t I seen him come up here paralyzed drunk, many a time? You ask me, Babe, he’s jealous over ya. Used to like ya a lot when he first knew you.”

Babe crossed to the radio.

“Let’s not talk about Charlie, no more,” the Bearcat said. “I’m here, ain’t I? Don’t that show you better than anythin’ that I’m boss of my own life from now on, outside of trainin’ hours?”

Babe tuned in a dance orchestra on the radio. Joe thrust a glass into her hand, and another into the Bearcat’s. Then he raised his own.

“Here’s to the nex’ champ!”

The Bearcat laughed modestly. They drank.

Babe took the Bearcat’s left hand and placed his right arm around her waist. They danced.

Joe looked at them, then taking a bottle and a glass he went into the bathroom and closed the door. Malone was a good pal. He was a fighter himself and realized what it meant to Bearcat to be alone with his girl.

As Babe and the Bearcat stood swaying rhythmically to the strain of a Spanish love song which came floating out of the radio, the Bearcat pressed her to him, kissed her soft golden hair, her lips, her throat. They forgot about Joe. He didn’t exist for them. They might have been upon some island alone. The sensuous music ended but the Bearcat was swept on. He kissed Babe passionately and held her tighter to him.

The Bearcat had never known a sensation like this before. He couldn’t think of anything, except Babe. He gazed deep into her eyes. He loved her, but he did not know how to tell her. His lips were mute under the compelling force of his inner passion. Did she feel the same as he, he wondered. He wanted to go on holding her and kissing her forever.

Joe returned to the room, a little drunker than when he had left.

“Don’t mind me, I know just how you feel,” he said.