The
Game had played him false, and he was more surely hers. She had heard of
knockouts from him. It often took men some time to recover from the
effects. It was not till she heard the seconds asking for the doctor
that she felt really worried.
They passed his limp body through the ropes to the stage, and it
disappeared beyond the limits of her peep-hole. Then the door of her
dressing-room was thrust open and a number of men came in. They were
carrying Joe. He was laid down on the dusty floor, his head resting on
the knee of one of the seconds. No one seemed surprised by her presence.
She came over and knelt beside him. His eyes were closed, his lips
slightly parted. His wet hair was plastered in straight locks about his
face. She lifted one of his hands. It was very heavy, and the
lifelessness of it shocked her. She looked suddenly at the faces of the
seconds and of the men about her. They seemed frightened, all save one,
and he was cursing, in a low voice, horribly. She looked up and saw
Silverstein standing beside her. He, too, seemed frightened. He rested
a kindly hand on her shoulder, tightening the fingers with a sympathetic
pressure.
This sympathy frightened her. She began to feel dazed. There was a
bustle as somebody entered the room. The person came forward,
proclaiming irritably: "Get out! Get out! You've got to clear the
room!"
A number of men silently obeyed.
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