"I don't get sick," he replied."Must be nice," she said. "What kind of gloves are those?" Sparring gloves. Come on, it's cold out here."Scott jogged b...ck to the door and held it for her as she pushed the bike inside. She followed him to the gym.He held up his fists. "Sparring gloves for the heavy bag. Heavy bag meet Taylor, Taylor meet heavy bag." Show me what you do."He threw a combo and flowed into a series of strikes, varying his pattern of attack. He worked the bag, always on the move,. " A youngster came from the back door, flipping a shilling in the air and skipping down the path. He saw us, pocketed the coin and ran. Odd behavior, thought I.Her husband proved to be a soft, fat man of middle years, balding and wattle-chinned. He looked up at me with distain and barely touched my hand when we shook and were introduced."How did it go?" his wife asked as we walked back toward their home."Slow, slow," he said. "I'll have to work them harder before Easter." But that Rogers boy. More

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