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The bride breathes a wish. "Precious," she lisps. "I think I would like a peach." The husband, Kid McGarry, champion welterweight of the world, solemnly rises to his lady's bidding. Forth like a knight he fares into the wintry streets, and then realizes the apparent hopelessness of wresting a peach from those chill February streets and shops. Everywhere it is the same, millions of oranges but no peaches. The kid knows of one place where lavishness is the order in the entertainment, that is Denver Dick's gambling place. Willing to go to any extreme, even a violation of the code of the sport, to gain the peach for his bride, the Kid goes to the police station and offers to lead a raid on the gambling joint. He does so, has a hot fight with Denver Dick, gets battered, but gains a peach, having the happy fortune to find one lonely beauty that has escaped the epicurean jaws of the followers of chance. He hurries home with it. Into the lap of his bride he places it. "Naughty boy," she says fondly. "Did I say a peach? I think I would much rather have an orange!"