“Gerrard’s Cross is a starter,” he announced, “ridden by Brown, colours brown and green. Belongs to Exminster, I see. Nine to one they seem to be offering in the ring.”
“I want a sovereign on,” Lady Mary decided. “Hurry, Jack!”
“Nothing doing, child of my heart,” the young man sighed. “Cleaned out my pocketbook last race.”
The young lady turned to her parents, who both seemed suddenly absorbed in the crowd below.
“Bother!” she exclaimed. “And the numbers are up already!”
“Will you allow me?” Jacob ventured, producing his pocketbook and handing a five-pound note to Felixstowe. “You’ll have to hurry.”
Lady Mary smiled at him sweetly and abandoned a furtive attempt to open her bag.
“Do you go to many race meetings, Mr. Pratt?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Very few,” he answered. “As a matter of fact, this is my first Ascot.”