C. S. Montanye

“ The girl, young, comely and animated, had a face that drove men to the divorce courts, and a figure that was a soft symphony of warm curves and dazzling white skin. She was featuring a pair of eyes as blue as the laws the reformers were trying to put across, a smile that was as bright as one of the Big Street's electrical signs and a certain swinging, lithe grace that made the Kid feel like a Busy Telephone Wire. ”

“ Undressed musical comedy always knocked him for an Arabian cuspidor. He liked to see 'em take it off. The more the merrier, as he told his friends. This night, as he contemplated the merry throng, he thought once or twice of his coming combat with the One Punch Jersey Jones, the Pride of Montclair. Jones, to his way of thinking, was a set-up. When the gong tapped for the catastrophe he would step in, smack One Punch on the button and drag down his 60 per cent of the harvest. The Pride of Montclair, as the world knew, had a jaw composed of glass.
“Nothing to it!” the Kid thought idly. ”

“ Women and Kid Push were as close as pepper and salt.
With another face the Kid would have passed in a jam. He packed the smackers, however, and let his money talk for him. When he wasn't pushing the leather he was up on some of the White Light's roofs tossing the Wild Cow and dating some queen who flashed a shape and a pair of pins with a curve to them. The Kid was crazy about legs. In the ring it was the jaw—after hours the stocking supports.
One night early in September Kid-Push was punishing some bootlegger's “see stars” special up at the Midnite Follies. ”