“Brave little woman! The widow’s all wrong.”
“How! Why? What do you mean?”
“She said her ladyship kept the chequebook, and saw to the estate herself, only allowing you a little pocket-money when you were a good boy.”
“Tell Lady Tilborough to mind her own business, Jack,” said the baronet, tartly.
“My dear Hilt, I’d share my last fiver with you, or I’d back any of your paper with pleasure; but I’ll be hanged if I’ll do that I say, though, come on to the race to-day.”
Sir Hilton shook his head.
“Nonsense! Think of it. Your old filly, La Sylphide, first favourite. I saw her a week ago. Lovely! Lady Tilborough told me she wouldn’t take four times as much for her as she gave at your sale.”
“The beautiful gazelle-eyed creature!” sighed Sir Hilton.
“That she is.”
“Who is up?” said Sir Hilton.