"Not more than an hour or two—less maybe."
"Well," said the girl, suddenly making up her mind, "I'll come."
It was a momentous decision, with far-reaching effects destined to touch all sorts of people and things, from Mr. French to Garryowen, a decision which, in the ensuing April, might have changed the course of racing events profoundly.
So slender and magical are the threads of cause that the fortunes of thousands of clerks with an instinct for racing, thousands of sportsmen, and innumerable "bookies," all were swept suddenly that afternoon into the control of an event so simple as a boating excursion on the west coast of Ireland.
She stepped into the boat, and took her seat in the stern. Mr. Giveen and Doolan pushed the little craft off, and just as she was water borne Mr. Giveen tumbled in over the bow, seized a scull, and pulled her into deep water.
The rocks made a tiny natural harbour, where the dinghy floated with scarcely a movement while the oarsman got out both sculls.
"Isn't he coming with us?" asked Miss Grimshaw.
"Who?"
"The old man—Doolan—what's his name?"