CHAPTER II
THE FIRST DAY’S RUN
Though Medenham was no turf devotee, he formed distinctly unfavorable conclusions as to the financial stability of the bawling bookmakers near at hand.
“If you wish to do any betting, Miss Vanrenen,” he said, “give me the money and I will invest it for you. There is no hurry. The Derby will not be run till three o’clock. We have an hour and a half in which to study form.”
For the life of him he could not imitate the complete annihilation of self practiced by the well-bred English servant. The American girl missed the absence of this trait far less than the other woman, but, by this time, even Mrs. Devar began to accept Medenham’s good-humored assumption of equality as part of the day’s amusement.
Cynthia handed him a card. She had bought three while they were crawling up the hill behind a break-load of jeering Cockneys.
“What will win the first race?” she asked. “Father says you men often hear more than the owners about the real performances of horses.”
Medenham tried to look knowing. He thanked his stars for Dale’s information.