"I see," said Jack, absolutely staggered that Acton, a monitor, should tell him, a fag, that he was betting on horse-racing.
"I see, young 'un, that you seem surprised at my little flutter, but, by Jove! this will have to be my last. Do you know, Bourne, I'm in an awful hole."
"I'm very sorry to hear it," said Jack, with no end of concern.
"You see, if Pocket Book pulls the handicap off before I've time to trim my sails, I lose a lot."
"Much," said Jack, "for you?"
"Thirty pounds."
"Whew!" whistled Bourne.
"I get a good allowance from home, Bourne, but I'm bound to say thirty pounds would cripple me."
"Rather," said Jack, with a gasp.
"Of course, if the worst did come to the worst, I'd have to apply to home; but there would be, as you might guess, no end of a row about it."