caressed it with gentle fingers.

"Who shall measure the influence of--a little parcel like this?" he said
at length lightly.

"True." Sir Charles' eye caught the title. "As Portia says: 'It blesseth
him that gives and him that takes.' Excellent bit of binding that, too!
But," with new zest, "take any interest in rare books of the ring, full
of eighteenth century colored prints, and so on?"

"I can't say, at present, that the doings of the ring or the history of
pugilists attract me."

"That's because you've never seen an honest, hard-fought battle,
perhaps?"

"A flattering designation, I should say, of the spectacle of two brutes
disfiguring their already repulsive visages!"

"Two brutes?--disfiguring?"--the drawling voice of Lord Ronsdale who had
at that moment stepped in, inquired. "May I ask what the--talk is
about?"

Sir Charles turned. "Steele was differing from me about a good, old,
honest English sport."

"Sport?" Lord Ronsdale dropped into a chair and helped himself to whisky
and soda conveniently near.

"I refer to the ring--its traditions--its chronicles--"