"V. C. is a ripping good pony," put in Nicky, who affected to be posted in racing matters; "Salwey says so."
"Choop! you and your Salwey!" ejaculated his mother with angry energy.
Meanwhile, Salwey and Captain Haig had ascended to the top of the stand, field-glasses in hand.
"No start," remarked Salwey.
"It's that brute Blue Devil," declared his companion; "he will keep them there for twenty minutes. I would like to shoot him!"
"I daresay you would," rejoined Salwey; "he is the favourite, and sold for a thousand in the lotteries last night."
"By the way, Salwey, you saw that Miss Chandos? I never was so astonished as when I came face to face with her in the paddock here; last time we met she was at Homburg, with every man in the place at her feet."
"Including yourself," suggested Salwey.
"I should rather think so. Of course, a poor devil like me dared not lift his eyes to fifteen thousand a year."
"Then she is the original V. C."