"I hope you will win it, whatever it is." She faced him. "Mr. Major, I do hope Ballet Girl will win."
"I know she will."
"They're off!"
They were. Mr. Wilmot favoured them with a running commentary.
"A good start! What's that in the black and white hoops in front? Hollo! Chappie's making the pace. Tragedy Queen seems to be funking it, or is young Blades holding her in? Ballet Girl seems to be running third. White will get himself shut in if he doesn't look out Hollo! Chappie's ahead! Mark Antony's challenging him! They're making a ding-dong thing of it, by George! Ballet Girl's creeping up; so's Tragedy Queen. What is that in the black and white hoops? Isn't it Bar One? It is Bar One! Ballet Girl is coming on. By gad, she is! Hark at the people shouting. Our five to one chance looks rosy, Mr. Major. She's collared Chappie! Tragedy Queen is sticking to her. It strikes me it's going to be a race between the pair of them. Bar One's third. Isn't Ballet Girl just flying? Bravo! Why, there must be two lengths between her and Tragedy Queen! Hark at the people! I say, Mr. Major, the devil must be in that friend of yours; Ballet Girl's half a dozen lengths in front! She's having a lark with them! She's—why!—what is that? She's down! down! My God! Why don't White pick her up? There's something wrong! Tragedy Queen's passed her! So's Bar One! Bar One's gaining! Bar One's in front!!!" Mr. Wilmot must have forgotten the presence of ladies. And in that hot moment it
