not approve of him, nor of your strange fancy for Nihilists,
Fenians, and other doubtful persons; but I think that even you might
draw the line at a prize-fighter."

Lydia lost color, and said, almost inaudibly, "Cashel Byron!"

"Then you KNEW!" exclaimed Lucian, scandalized.

Lydia waited a moment to recover, settled herself quietly in her
chair, and replied, calmly, "I know what you tell me--nothing more.
And now, will you explain to me exactly what a prize-fighter is?"

"He is simply what his name indicates. He is a man who fights for
prizes."

"So does the captain of a man-of-war. And yet society does not place
them in the same class--at least, I do not think so."

"As if there could be any doubt that society does not! There is no
analogy whatever between the two cases. Let me endeavor to open your
eyes a little, if that be possible, which I am sometimes tempted to
doubt. A prize-fighter is usually a man of naturally ferocious
disposition, who has acquired some reputation among his associates
as a bully; and who, by constantly quarrelling, has acquired some
practice in fighting. On the strength of this reputation he can
generally find some gambler willing to stake a sum of money that he
will vanquish a pugilist of established fame in single combat. Bets
are made between the admirers of the two men; a prize is subscribed
for, each party contributing a share; the combatants are trained as
racehorses, gamecocks, or their like are trained; they meet, and