"
"No, did I though?--why then, to be candid,--I detest saying
'Good-by!'--and I have been devoutly wishing for two pair of muffles,
for, sir, I have taken a prodigious liking to you--but--"
"But?" inquired Barnabas.
"Some time since you mentioned the names of two men--champions
both--ornaments of the 'Fancy'--great fighters of unblemished
reputation."
"You mean my--er--that is, Natty Bell and John Barty."
"Precisely!--you claim to have--boxed with them, sir?"
"Every day!" nodded Barnabas.
"With both of them,--I understand?"
"With both of them."
"Hum!"
"Sir," said Barnabas, growing suddenly polite, "do you doubt my word?"
"Well," answered his Lordship, with his whimsical look, "I'll admit
I could have taken it easier had you named only one, for surely, sir,
you must be aware that these were Masters of the Fist--the greatest
since the days of Jack Broughton and Mendoza."
"I know each had been champion--but it would almost seem that I have
entertained angels unawares!--and I boxed with both because they
happened to live together."
"Then, sir," said the Viscount, extending his hand in his frank,
impetuous manner, "you are blest of the gods.
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