“Nines I got,” he announced. “Here’s your fiver, Jacob. Forty-five of the best for you, Mary. Lucky old dear!”
The girl grasped the notes joyfully.
“But surely these aren’t all mine? I said one pound. Some of this must belong to Mr. Pratt?”
Jacob shook his head, interrupting Felixstowe’s reluctant confirmation.
“Not at all,” he protested politely. “As a matter of fact, I have won a great deal of money myself on the race. I gave your brother a five-pound note because I could not find a smaller one. So much the better for you.”
The girl gave a little sigh of content. Jacob, turning around, was suddenly aware of a look of relief on the part of her distinguished father and mother. The latter smiled approvingly at Jacob, who was preparing to take his leave.
“You must come and call some afternoon, Mr. Pratt,” she said graciously. “We shall be glad to see you in Belgrave Square.”
“I shall be very pleased,” Jacob replied.
“And thank you,” Lady Mary whispered.