"Besides," as one of the two men who sat on my knees had said, "What's a favourite anyway? Very often a horse is made a favourite by the bookies, in conjunction with the Press, just so as everyone will back it. No, no favourites for me. Give me a likely outsider at good odds. Look what you have to put on The Panther to win anything."
In the result I backed—well, I am not going to tell you; but they "also ran."
The moral of this story—if it has one—is either don't bet at all, or, if you do bet, draw the horse from a hat at random, and, having drawn it, stick to it. No one, as the failure of The Panther proves, can possibly know more than you.
Wife. "HOW ABOUT SEAHAVEN FOR THE HOLIDAYS? I HEAR IT'S VERY PICTURESQUE."
Profiteer. "NOT OUR CLASS, MY DEAR. TOO QUIET—SORT O' PLACE THE NOUVEAUX PAUVRES GO TO."