He looked at her intently.
"I always like to see any one ready to back an outsider."
"Don't people generally?"
"No—and nor will you, perhaps, when you're older."
She gave him her half-crown, and he disappeared with it into the crowd, having first carefully put her next a group of respectable farmers' wives. In some ways, thought Tony, he was just as particular as father. She wished he would let her go with him into the ring.
He came back in a few moments. Then suddenly the bell clanged.
"They're off!"
Silence dropped on the babel almost disconcertingly. Opera-glasses flashed towards the start, rows of heads and bodies hung over the rail, Tony's breath came in short gasps, so did Nigel's—he was desperately anxious for that outsider to win. As they had no glasses they could not see which colours led at the bend, but as the horses swung into the straight, there were shouts of "Milk-O!—Milk-O!"
"Damn the brute!" said Nigel, which gave Tony another thrill of new experience. She had actually spent the afternoon with a man who swore!
"Milk-O!—Milk-O!"