He had been exhorted to go in for
the Amateur Championships, but he had no particular ambition in that
direction. Once he had put on the gloves with Hammer Tunstall in a
booth at a fair and had fought three rattling rounds, in which he had
the worst of it, but had made the prize fighter stretch himself to the
uttermost. There was his whole record, and was it enough to encourage
him to stand up to the Master of Croxley? He had never heard of the
Master before, but then he had lost touch of the ring during the last
few years of hard work. After all, what did it matter? If he won,
there was the money, which meant so much to him. If he lost, it would
only mean a thrashing. He could take punishment without flinching, of
that he was certain. If there were only one chance in a hundred of
pulling it off, then it was worth his while to attempt it.
Dr. Oldacre, new come from church, with an ostentatious Prayer-book in
his kid-gloved hand, broke in upon his meditation.
"You don't go to service, I observe, Mr. Montgomery" said he, coldly.
"No, sir; I have had some business to detain me."
"It is very near to my heart that my household should set a good
example. There are so few educated people in this district that a great
responsibility devolves upon us.
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