“I don’t think you do,” replied Bearcat. “It’s wonderful.” He thought no woman except the one he held in his arms could make a man feel that way. And he was sure that neither Joe nor any other man had ever held her just that way.

The three had a little supper together in the room. Joe had ordered it sent up. The Bearcat could not have made any elaborate plans to celebrate with Babe for it would have certainly got back to Charlie.

They sat there eating and drinking and talking, growing a little drunker as the night wore on. By and by, Babe began to be a little weary. She would have liked to go with the Bearcat at once. Everything would have been great had they been alone, even though Joe was a very congenial host. The Bearcat sat in the big chair with his arms around Babe, while Joe dragged out a book of press clippings of himself, as he always did after a few drinks, and showed it to them. They were bored to death but pretended to be interested.

Then Babe suggested going home.

“Joe looks tired,” she said. “We’d better be going.”

Joe denied it. “No, I ain’t. Stay a while. It’s early yet.”

“No,” said Babe, “you did enough for us tonight, Joe. We certainly appreciate it.”

“Yeah, Joe,” the Bearcat put in, “you cert’n’y are a real pal.”

Babe put on her hat after arranging her hair, which badly needed a comb since the Bearcat had mauled it all evening. He had almost kissed the waves out of it.

“Aw right, Joe,” said the Bearcat, extending his hand, “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. Drop around to the hotel.”

“Sure,” Joe said, shaking hands. “I’ll see you all of a sudden. Good-night, Babe, take care of him.”

“Take care of me?” Bearcat laughed. “I’ll take care of her.”

“That ain’t what I mean,” said Joe, enigmatically.

Down in the street, the Bearcat stepped up to a cab that stood by the curb and threw open the door. Babe got in.

“Hotel Europe on 49th Street,” the Bearcat said to the driver, and followed her into the cab.

The taxi eased away from the hotel. Babe slipped her arm about the Bearcat’s neck, pressed her cheek against his and relaxed her body into his lap.

The Bearcat felt the soft round mold of Babe’s limbs. Her cheek against his felt cool and soothing. The touch of her soft body against his own raw, irritated flesh which had been scraped on the ring ropes was soothing—like the comforting rub-down of his trainer after a work-out. All these sensations were blended into one sweetness like that moment of blessed relief in the corner between rounds, when the senses were released in fleeting slumber before the gong signaled for renewed battle.