'No. Well, I'm not plunging either way. Ought to be a good race.'
'Rather. I say, I wonder Welch doesn't try his hand at the mile. I believe he would do some rattling times if he'd only try.'
'Why, Welch is a sprinter.'
'I know. But I believe for all that that the mile's his distance. He's always well up in the cross-country runs.'
'Anyhow, he's not in for it this year. Thomson's my man. It'll be a near thing, though.'
'Jolly near thing. With Drake in front.'
'Thomson.'
'Drake.'
'All right, we'll see. Wonder why the beak doesn't come up. I can't sit here doing Livy all the evening. And yet if we stop he's bound to look in.'
'Oh Lord, is that what you've been worrying about? I thought you'd developed the work habit or something. Ward's all right. He's out on the tiles tonight. Gone to a dinner at Philpott's.'