"A-a-a swell chance. Why, they's only one
real girl wit' the whole troupe, an' she don't
work in no chorus, I'll tell you that."



in



Speeding the film once more, we catch
glimpses of the little manager flitting from town
to town, snapping at the heels of the champion,
annoying him with challenges, bombarding him
with certified checks, threatening, blustering,
bluffing.
There are also glimpses of a remarkable
[189]



TAKING THE COUNT



progress in the benevolent vampiring line;
close-ups of an inquisitive, kittenish blonde ex-
ploring the depths of a young man's being,
sweeping out the dusty corners of his soul,
selfishly testing her power over him in a dozen
different ways.
Slowing the film to normal, we discover our
lightweight Samson purchasing lobster for his
Delilah at the hour of 11 p. m. He is convers-
ing with her in low, earnest tones, as follows :
"Honest, kid, it ain't such a bad game as all
that. You don't know nothin' about it; that's
why you knock so hard."

"I know it is brutal and degrading — and it is
ftot worthy of you, Joe."

* ' Not worthy ? Why, say, listen here ' '

"It is brutal!" said Miss Delorme.
"Oh, well," said Joe, with a sigh, "maybe it
ifl — for them that loses."

"And not worthy of you," insisted Vyvyan,
pressing her advantage.
"Maybe it ain't," admitted Joe slowly. "I
never thought about it that way."

"Don't you realize that beating another man
— ^with your fists — ^has its effect on you?"

"Why, sure, girlie." Joe fingered his cauli-
flower ear and smiled like a cross-eyed angel.
"Sure it's got an effect. A guy can't block
♦email."

"Oh, you don't understand! I mean the
moral effect!"

Joe shook his head hopelessly.
