'It's the things that don't come off which make the stupid stories.'
'Well, I congratulate you, then. How long have you been on the turf?'
'I haven't been on the turf at all, in one way. I've bred racehorses, and bought and sold them, ever since my uncle died, leaving me Strathhaye; that's now six years ago, come Easter.'
'Well, for six years you have been more deeply interested in young horses than in anything else in the world——'
'You know a jolly sight better than that.'
'You have talked of them, dreamt of them, been with them; several times you have nearly died for them; always you have lived for them, and now at last you have won the blue ribbon of the Australian racing world. How did you feel when you saw your horse pass the winning-post?'
'I didn't see him at all. He was a dark horse, and sold the bookmakers right and left. There was a packed mob of them yelling like devils, calling out this horse and the other. When the number was put up, and people kept shouting "Konrad!" I saw blue stars for a bit.'
'It must be delightful for something to happen that makes you see blue stars. I almost wish I had been there.'
'I wish you had. I would have had a new drag in your honour, and a team that would have made most of those there look silly. Why didn't you come when Laurette wrote to ask you?'
'Oh, let me see! I know there were very good reasons, but I forget them.'