two days later, was overtaken in a quiet street by young Mowbray.
"You'll have to fight Norcop next Friday week," he told Anthony. "If you lick him there's to be an end of it, and you're to be left alone. I thought I'd let you know in time."
Mowbray lived at the Priory, an old Georgian house with a big garden the other end of the town. He had come far out of his way.
"It's awfully kind of you," said Anthony.
"I hope you'll win," said Mowbray. "I'm a Socialist. I think it rubbish all this difference between the classes. I think we're all equal, and so does my sister. She's awfully well read."
Anthony was not paying much attention. His mind was occupied with the ordeal before him.
"He's rather good, isn't he, Harry Norcop?" he asked.
"That's why they're putting him up," answered Mowbray. "It's a rotten silly idea. It's the way that pack of wolves settle their differences. And the wolf that goes down all the others turn away from and try to make it worse for the poor begger. We're just the same. If you get licked on Friday you'll be persecuted worse than ever. There's no sense in it."
