"It is a queer place enough for anybody, if you come to that; but no worse for them than for others; and it is they make the scene so pretty as it is."
"I can't imagine how there should be anything pretty in seeing horses run to death!" said Mrs. Copley.
"I just said it is the pretty girls that give the charm," said her husband. "Though I can see some beauty in a fine horse, and in good riding; and they understand riding, those Epsom jockeys."
"Jockeys!" his wife repeated. "I don't want to hear you talk about jockeys, Mr. Copley."
"I am not going to, my dear. I give up the field to Dolly."
"Mother, the first thing was the place. It is a most beautiful place."
"The race-ground?"
"No, no, mother; Mr. St. Leger's place. 'The Peacocks,' they call it."
"What do they give it such a ridiculous name for?"
"I don't know. Perhaps they used to have a great many peacocks. But the place is the most beautiful place I ever saw. Mother, we were half an hour driving from the lodge at the park gate to the house."