"Let me," he suggested pleasantly, "be your banker."
The light dry rustle of French bank-notes came agreeably from between his fingers.
The young man hesitated, then put out his hand.
"A thousand thanks, Monsieur, you are too good—I will back Grimace, and after the race——"
Jimmy handed him the notes to choose from.
At the stair foot stood Molly and Mrs. Falconer.
"We went this afternoon to see Jack's horse," Miss Malines said to the Marquis. Whatever she said, no matter how general, she said to him—others might gather what they could. "Bon Jour's a beauty—a dear, and as fit as possible. Oh, she's in great form! Jack's crazy about her, and so is the jockey. I know Bon Jour will win! I'm going to put twenty-five francs on her to-morrow."
Mary Falconer smiled radiantly. "And you, Jimmy," she took for granted, "are of course betting on the favorite?"
"If you mean Grimace—" his tone was indifferent—"no, I shall back your husband's horse."
"Jimmy!" Her tone changed, and her expression as well.