The fat man, with a chuckle, thought he could diagnose the cause of her annoyance.
Next morning he met Boy in the village.
She was wearing a close-fitting woollen cap, that covered her hair, and the collar of her coat was turned up.
The collar of the girl's coat was always turned up now, he remarked sardonically, though the sun was gaining daily in power and the wind losing its nip.
She sauntered past him, and seemed even ready for a chat.
Never slow to seize a chance, the fat man closed with her at once.
"How goes it, Miss Woodburn?" he said.
"Very well, thank you."
"So you're going to win the National?"
"Are we?"