The boxing matches accomplished several results. They were extremely good for the Major, reducing his waist by several inches and so increasing his staying-powers that he could eat his way through dinner from _hors d'oeuvre_ to _crème de menthe_ without losing breath. They were good for Joan, giving her a new perspective on male human nature, which since the episode of Eduard Desmond she had been in danger of regarding rather cynically. And if they weren't altogether good for Archie Blair--well, Archibald was a young man quite accustomed to taking care of himself. He would have faced greater perils than he did for the privilege of spending a glorious hour under the same roof with Miss Darcy--whom he continued to call "Miss Darcy" even in his secret thoughts, though she had lately formed the delightful habit of addressing him as "Archie." She had also presented him kindly with a small photograph of herself on a post-card, taken for the purpose of showing Stefan Nikolai the furs he had sent her, and incidentally the ringless condition of her left hand. (It was her answer to his letter about the phagocytes.) Archie did not exhibit this treasure, even to his friend Ellen Neal, regarding it in the nature of a sacred trust. He had made for it a frame with a little door which locked, and which greatly intrigued the good woman for several days; until she found that the back of it came off quite easily. CHAPTER XXVII In their weekly chats over her tea-table (from which the Major early excused himself, possibly under wifely suggestion), Joan got into the way of being quite confidential with Archibald. She told him one day how lonely she was for women's companionship. "At school I had too many chums, and here I haven't any," she complained. "I really don't know why!" "Maybe they're sort of jealous," was his suggestion. "Why, Archie! You're getting positively subtle with your compliments," she laughed. "No, it can't be that. I'm no 'man's woman!'--I'm done with that forever! They're welcome to every beau in town for all of me, and I _never_ flirt with other people's property. I'm really the ideal companion nowadays--no family complete without me.... Of course I see a lot of girls around at parties, and they're friendly enough, even make rather a fuss over me. But--that's all! Somehow we don't seem to be playing the same game." "Ish ga bibble," murmured Archie, consolingly if cryptically. "What do _you_ care, when you've got 'em all nailed to the mast? But I know just what you mean, Miss Darcy. Used to feel sort of that way myself when I went with Miss Gracie or Miss Ella, or any of them from the office. Before I knew your sort." "So you think," said Joan, amused, "it's the sort that's wrong, not me?" "Nothing wrong with _you_!" he declared, with a comforting finality. Being a person with whom sympathy was always active rather than passive, however, he took her case earnestly under consideration; with rather surprising results.