flew at her brother as soon as his own gloves were fastened.

They went about their business like lightning, swinging, blocking,
countering. Twice she gave him inviting openings and then punished him
savagely before he could get away; then he attempted in-fighting, but
her legs were too nimble. And after a while he lost his head and came at
her using sheer weight, which set her beside herself with fury.

Teeth clenched, crimson-cheeked, she side-stepped, feinted, and whipped
in an upper-cut. Then, darting in, she drove home her left with all her
might; and Scott went down with an unmistakable thud.

"One--two--three--four," she counted, "and you _did_ tell a lie, didn't
you? Five--six--Oh, Scott! I've made your nose bleed horridly! Does it
hurt, dear? Seven--eight----"

The boy, still confused, rose and instinctively assumed the classic
attitude of self-defence; but his sister threw down her gloves and
offered him her handkerchief, saying: "You've just got to be fair to me
now, Scott. Tell me that I throw straight and that I did hit Olga!"

He hesitated; wiped his nose:

"I take it back. You can throw straight. Ginger! What a crack you just
gave me!"

She was all compunction and honey now, hovering around him where he
stood stanching honourable wounds. After a while he laughed. "Thunder!"
he exclaimed ruefully; "my nose seems to be growing for fair. You're all
right, Geraldine."