“So those two got that pretty filly! Well, she didn't show much quality, when you come to think of it. She's still with our friend, according to your aunt.”
Gyp nodded.
“Yes; and I do hope she's happy.”
“HE isn't, apparently. Serves him right.”
Gyp shook her head.
“Oh no, Dad!”
“Well, one oughtn't to wish any man worse than he's likely to get. But when I see people daring to look down their noses at you—by Jove! I get—”
“Darling, what does that matter?”
Winton answered testily:
“It matters very much to me—the impudence of it!” His mouth relaxed in a grim little smile: “Ah, well—there's not much to choose between us so far as condemning our neighbours goes. 'Charity Stakes—also ran, Charles Clare Winton, the Church, and Mrs. Grundy.'”