Next day they went to Epsom. There was a party of ten, a merry lot; there was no mistaking they were on pleasure bent and on good terms with themselves.
Eve had a box. She always did things well, and took care when she went racing she was comfortable and had plenty of elbow-room. Alan came into the box after the first race; he was cordially greeted.
"I expect Miss Berkeley has told you Robin Hood is likely to win the
Epsom Plate," he said.
"Yes, we've got the straight tip," said one of the party.
"I can confirm it, you can put a bit extra on him, it's a real good thing," he said with a laugh.
He stood close to Ella, his arm touched hers, she felt a thrill; turning to him she said:
"What a strange place Epsom is! Such a crowd, and there's no comfort; we're all right here, thanks to Eve, but over there it's horrible," and she pointed to the hill.
"There will be twice as many people to-morrow," he said. "Perhaps three or four times as many; Derby Day is one of the sights of the world, it is never equalled anywhere."
"We can beat you at Flemington," she replied, "and Randwick. Not so many people, but as for comfort, well, you simply don't know what it is here. Where's the paddock?" she asked, looking round.
"Over there," said Alan, pointing in that direction. "Would you like to go? There's more room to-day, it will be crowded to-morrow. It's rather a good paddock, when you get to it, picturesque."