It shamed her. But she looked again. And again. And sudden rebellion at that shame led her to a wholly spontaneous, wholly unconsidered act. Perry was deep in abstraction. She knew what he was brooding over. That made her rebellious, too. Suddenly she reached out and laid her hand upon his bare shoulder. He looked around and smiled. "Hard?" He believed he understood the expression he had surprised in her eyes. "I'm in pretty good shape. I'm pretty hard." She made only a muffled attempt at reply. She found it, without speaking, hard enough to breathe. Hard? Yes. Unexpectedly undeniable, like a billiard ball. Nor could she very well stammer that it was the smoothness of his skin which had stunned her. She dropped her head again. She could not have kept it up after that and kept her eyelids open. When she finally lifted it Perry was already in the ring and English vaulting the ropes. English was as unclothed as the other, yet she found immediately that she could look at him without any disturbing mixture of ecstasy and guilt. And even critically, too. He was thick, bulky. He did not make one catch one's breath. And brown. And Perry's whiteness! She took her lower lip between her teeth. "Time!" the trainer called. She cried sharply aloud. The sound came unsummoned, in spite of herself. Why, they had just been standing there together--just talking--just laughing--just boys! But with that signal they had exploded into action. No other word could hope to convey that sudden burst of motion. They touched gloves! She followed that. English tried to hit him! She followed that. And then thud! thud! thud! She could not beat as swiftly with one fist the palm of her other hand as Perry's glove struck thrice the welter's face. Thud! thud! thud! And skip and shuffle--thud! And a straining, desperate embrace. "Oh, he's so much bigger," she heard herself wailing. "He's _so_ much bigger!" And the trainer, remembering through it all her presence: "Watch it! Watch it! Watch--that--left--hand!" She saw then that it was Perry's short, jabbing, stiff left forearm which perplexed the heavier man. She saw the latter set himself to swing, and take it in the face, and go off balance. And set and take it again. And she didn't cry out any more. She leaned forward, so tensely set herself in every muscle that she found she was tired when the trainer stopped it. "Time!" The trainer she learned then was not pleased. He snarled at Jack English. But English only grinned. "Slow!" he said. "Slow! Oh, boy! So'd you look slow trying to pace the Empire State Express." And there was more. Faster, faster and faster. And cruder! He could never tell her again that this was merely sport. And English _was_ bigger and his size did count. At the last he seemed barely to snap his right gloved hand forward, and Perry staggered back. "Time!" She thanked God, out loud, for that.