Her collar, indeed! It was easy to see that, if unbound, it would reach considerably below her waist. But _foot-ball_! Why, she must mean basket-ball, of course. I opened my mouth to remind her, when she proceeded: "But I was going to tell you about this prize fight. Well, this fight was just a little one, you know. Purse of eighteen dollars; and we had to chip in afterward with an extra three to get Mug Kelly--that's the Charlestown Pet, you know--to stand the gaff for a second round. Why, he was all in on the count at the end of the first round--what do you think of that?" "But I say, you know--" I began, but she lifted her hand. "I know--I know what you're going to say, Dicky; you think we were a bunch of easy marks, that's what you think. But how could we tell what my room-mate was going to do to the Pet--we couldn't, you know." "Your room-mate!" I exclaimed aghast. "A--an other young lady--in a pugilistic encounter? Oh, I say!" She chuckled. "G'long; stop your kidding!" And she kicked playfully at me. Then she assumed a mincing air--finger on chin, lips pursed, and eyes rolling upward, you know. "Yes, another sweet young peacherino--Miss Billings' little room-mate--a beef that hits the beam at about two-sixty--Little Lizzie, you know." "Lizzie!" I repeated vaguely. "Oh, say, Dicky, cut it out; let me finish. Well, another minute, and the Pet would have been put to sleep, but just then the coppers nailed us." She added gloomily: "And that's what queered me with Sis. Fierce, ain't it?" She sighed and her beautiful lashes drooped sadly. By Jove, I was so jolly floored I couldn't manage a word. I knew, of course, that my heart was broken, but it didn't matter. I loved her just the same; I should always love her; and she had tried to let me know she loved me better than any man she had ever met. What the deuce did anything else matter, anyhow? We would marry and go out on a ranch or something of that sort, where the false, polished what-you-call-it of civilization didn't count, and no rude rebuff or sneer of society would ever chill her warm impulsiveness. She smiled archly. "See here, Dicky, I thought we were going to tell each other the story of our lives. Your turn now; tell me how she looks to you, this girl that came at last--there's always the one girl comes at last, they say, if you wait long enough. Go on--tell me--what's she like?" "Of course, you don't know!" I said significantly. "Me? Of course I wouldn't know--I want you to tell me. Say, is she really so pretty?" "Pretty," indeed! It was like this adorable child of nature not to understand that she was the most perfect and faultless creation on earth! I leaned toward her. "_Is_ she pretty?" I repeated reproachfully. She eyed me slyly. "Oh, of course I know how _you_ feel," she said, "but draw me a _picture_ of her."