"Eighteen months ago a lad came into our stable who was rather like me."
He laughed merrily.
"Good for you!" he cried. "Now put your idea into practise."
She shook her head.
"Why not?"
"I don't want to win the National now."
"Don't you?"
She looked up into his face.
"I'm too old," she said. "I've got to put my hair up this winter."
The confidence once made frightened her.