"Go on, Vanity Girl!"
The roaring died down to a suppressed murmur of agitation.
"What's the matter with the favorite?"
"O'Hara's flogging her along."
The horses flashed past the stand with the black, white and purple of Clarehaven twinkling in the ruck like a setting star.
"Tony!" Dorothy screamed. "She's beaten!"
"Oh well," said the owner, "don't make such a noise about it."
He was smiling a foolish, fixed smile, but he let his glasses drop from his hands on the toes of a lady close by.
"I'm very sorry, ma'am," said Tony, raising his hat. "I hope I didn't hurt you."
The injured lady glared at him; it was her first Derby, and perhaps she did not realize that it mattered who won or lost.