“Yes.”
“A horrible thought. What about your weight?” she whispered.
“Went straight to the scales and tried,” he replied, in the same lowered tone. “Right to an ounce.”
“Ha!” ejaculated Lady Tilborough, with a sigh of relief and a glance back to see if the trainer was out of hearing. “Now then, off to your room and get into your silk. Mind, you must keep cool and you must win.”
“I’m trying my best. But I can’t help thinking. My wife!”
“Oh! Kiss your wife, man—when you get back. Never mind her now.”
“But if by any chance she hears?”
“Let her hear when the race is run. She must hear afterwards, of course. Wives and husbands are out of court now. Remember your four thou’.”
“I do,” said Sir Hilton, with a groan.
“Ah! would you!” cried Lady Tilborough. “You’ve got to face the thing anyhow, and listen, here’s your position: It’s meeting the poor, severe darling with the race lost, or meeting her with it won. Which will you do?”