I was racing2 Rataplan on the Saturday at the Port meeting, and had got him stabled down at Mitcham to be handy for the course. The ride to Aviemore would be a little gentle exercise for him, and apart from that his appearance at Aviemore was bound to be of some interest to Sir Henry, who was himself a most enthusiastic horse lover.
I had thought out all details of my visit most carefully, and planned everything just like a general setting on a great campaign.
I dressed myself carefully, and with a pink carnation4 in my buttonhole and accompanied by one of my men on a hack5, at half-past eleven set out from my gates.
It was with mingled6 feelings that I rode up the gentle slopes on the mountain side. I was just a little nervous, but it was not the nervousness of fear. It was just that trembling that comes to most people when they are embarking7 upon some action upon which great issues depend.
I had felt the same sickly feeling in France just before going over the top.
But if in one way I felt nervous, in another way I felt bold as a lion. A sure instinct told me I should see and perhaps speak to Mary, and every shred8 of pride in me called to my manhood to assert itself and show to the girl I loved that I was strong enough and brave enough to overcome any resistance that might be offered to my wooing.
Fortune was a tricky9 jade10 I knew, but I would smile on her in spite of all set-backs she might be going to offer me.
Arriving at Aviemore in good time for my appointment, I rode confidently up the avenue, and giving Rataplan over to the care of my man, with instructions to keep him well under the shadow of the trees, boldly approached the house.
I was received by a staid, elderly butler, unmistakably English, and at once ushered11 into the library, where Sir Henry was sitting at his desk.
He was quite cordial to me, and we soon arranged the matter of the fillies. I, of course, agreed to what he asked at once, and we then passed on, as nearly all old soldiers do, to discussing the old days in France.
My last C.O. had been, it appeared, a great friend of his, and he was most interested to hear from one who had been actually present the story of his death. He had been killed by a shell only about three days before the conclusion of the Armistice12.
We chatted most interestedly for quite half an hour; but, to my disappointment, Sir Henry said nothing about stopping to lunch, and at last, thinking I couldn’t well make my stay any longer, I reluctantly rose to go.
Sir Henry rose too and moved towards the bell. He stopped, however, with his finger on the push, and remarked:—
“I see you’re riding, Mr. Stratton.”
“Yes, I came up here on Rataplan,” I replied calmly.
“Oh!” he said briskly, “I must come and see Rataplan. I should like to have a good look at him. I’ll just put on my hat.”
We passed out through the hall on to the neatly13 gravelled path in front of the house, and my heart began to quicken.
A small group of people were standing15 by Rataplan, and in a flash I saw Mary was among them there.
Now for it, I thought. Sir Henry would be bound to introduce me at last.
There were four others besides Mary standing there, but their backs were turned and they didn’t notice us until the noise of our footsteps on the gravel14 made them all turn their heads.
Mary’s face was a delicious picture of perfect self-control. She must have been waiting for me to come out I thought, and preparing herself for the moment when I should actually appear.
Her sweet oval face was delicately flushed, and her lovely eyes showed what I knew well enough was only prettily16 assumed surprise.
Sir Henry introduced us.
“My daughter, Mr. Stratton. Admiral James, Mr. and Mrs. Ronaldson, my sister, Mrs. Townley.”
They all bowed formally except Mary, and she came forward at once with a little shy smile and gave me her hand.
“I hope you won’t mind, Mr. Stratton,” she said prettily, with just the faintest trembling in her voice, “but I’ve been giving Rataplan some sugar — your man says he loves it.”
“It’s quite all right, Miss Vane,” I replied, “he’ll eat as much sugar as he can get any time.”
“Oh, but isn’t he a beauty?” she went on. “I thought he looked lovely with you in the paddock the other day.”
I thought how lovely she looked. Pretty as I had thought her at a distance, I had never imagined the added beauty there would come into her face when she was animated17. She smiled so happily with her eyes, and her cupid’s bow of a mouth broke into such pretty curves when she spoke18.
“Oh, you angel,” I said to myself, “I’ll find another use for those pretty lips of yours some day, and soon too; see if I don’t.”
They all stood round the gelding admiring him.
“Yes, he’s perfectly19 magnificent,” Sir Henry said. “I never saw finer shoulders in my life. He’s running at the Port meeting, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” I replied; “next Saturday.”
“I for one shall back him again,” broke in the jolly-looking old admiral. “I had a pound on him last time he ran, but on Saturday I’ll have to sport a fiver. I hope you’ll have a good jockey up.”
“Oh, well, I hope so too,” I said smiling; “I’m going to ride him myself.”
“You are, are you?” remarked the old man at once in a most unmistakable change of tone. “Well, I’ll have a pound on, anyway.”
Everyone burst out laughing, and Sir Henry said genially20:—
“That’s a nasty one, Mr. Stratton, isn’t it? I hope you’re not unduly21 sensitive.”
“Oh,” apologised the admiral quickly, “I assure I didn’t mean anything at all. I was only thinking that these rough professional jockeys understand the racecourses over here better than amateurs, however good. I’m sure from the look of you, you’re a devilish good rider; now, aren’t you?”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” I replied, laughing, “but Rataplan here and I have gone many hundreds of miles together and no one gets more out of him than I do.”
“I really think,” said Sir Henry in a severe tone of mock solemnity, “that the very least Admiral James can do is to apologise to Mr. Stratton. I must say that in spite of the admiral’s explanation it seems to me a great reflection on Mr. Stratton’s horsemanship that the admiral should be reducing his investment on Rataplan from five pounds to one so quickly.”
“Yes, Sir Henry,” I said, joining in the fun, “no one can blame me now if on Saturday I ‘pull’ Rataplan out of pique22.”
Just then a gong sounded in the distance, and I got ready promptly23 to say my good-byes.
But Mary, plucky24 little darling that she was, came to my rescue at once before I could say anything.
“Perhaps Mr. Stratton will stay to luncheon25, father,” she said, meeting my eyes boldly, with the frankest expression of friendliness26.
Sir Henry hesitated for perhaps the slightest fraction of a second, but then joined in heartily27 with the invitation.
“We shall be delighted if Mr. Stratton will,” he said, and then, perhaps to make up, I thought, for not having been the first to offer me his hospitality, he went on genially, “and Mary, as Mr. Stratton has just agreed to take over those two dreadful fillies of mine we’ll have a magnum of champagne28 to wish him luck. Tell Bunting some of the Heidsieck, 1906. You’ll stay, of course, Mr. Stratton?”
“With pleasure,” I returned, with my eyes full on Mary. “I’m sure, it’s very good of you to ask me.”
“I’m very glad you’ve bought the fillies,” now joined in the admiral. “That idea of the champagne too is an excellent one, Sir Henry. I always think that when a man’s bought anything from anybody there’s nothing like a champagne to seal the bargain with. At any rate the buyer then gets something for his money.”
“Really, admiral, we shall have to put you in Coventry,” frowned Sir Henry. “You first insult Mr. Stratton here about his riding ability, and now you insinuate29 that all the good he is going to get from buying these fillies of mine will be a few glasses of miserable30 champagne.”
“Miserable champagne, be hanged. Why, that 1906 is the best stuff you’ve got in your cellar. But come on, Sir Henry. Let’s fall in. There’s Mary beckoning31 to us.”
It was indeed a merry party at luncheon. We all sat together at one big round table, and the champagne soon put us all on good terms with one another.
Personally, I wanted that touch of champagne. It just took away the slight feeling of nervousness I was experiencing, and gave me confidence to be natural and like myself.
In a few minutes I found myself talking easily and without embarrassment32, as if I had known them all my life.
Mary sat nearly opposite me, and many times during the meal, whilst the others were talking, our eyes met and held each other in the friendliest way possible. When it happened that she caught me looking at her, as she often did, she made no pretence33 at all of turning her eyes away, but looked back at me with such a sweet provoking look upon her face that it was I who had to drop my eyes lest the others should see there the admiration34 in them.
Everybody was very nice to me, and, of course, being the greatest stranger at the table, I was generally the centre of their conversation.
I soon found they all apparently35 knew something about me, for they asked me a lot of questions about bush life. Then Mrs. Townley said, “You’re interested in sheep, aren’t you, Mr. Stratton?” and when I replied “Rather,” she asked me interestedly if I had many.
“Well,” I said cautiously, “probably, what you would call many; I have about twenty-eight thousand at Velvet36 Hills.”
“Good gracious,” she exclaimed, “I should think I should call it many; and who looks after them when you’re away?”
“Oh,” I replied, “I have a splendid manager and he has overseers under him, who in turn look after the station hands.”
“Did you say Velvet Hills?” interrupted Mr. Ronaldson, who hitherto hadn’t spoken much.
“Yes, Velvet Hills, beyond Pimba.”
“Then you must be a relation of the Mr. Sidney Stratton who died about three months ago.”
“Yes, he was my cousin, and the station came to me through him. Did you know him?”
“I knew him very well years ago. I am a member of the legal profession, Mr. Stratton, and at one time did a lot of conveyancing for your cousin. Besides the sheep station he had a great many interests in the city, hadn’t he?”
“Yes,” I replied; “so many that when he died I really don’t think he knew how many he did have.”
“And did he — did he?” he went on, and then hesitated, apparently not wishing to be too inquisitive37.
“Oh, yes,” I said, guessing the drift of his question. “He left everything to me. I was his sole heir.”
“Then you’re a lucky man, Mr. Stratton, and you must be a very rich one, too.”
Everyone had been listening with interest to our remarks, but a silence fell over the table after Mr. Ronaldson had finished speaking.
It was an opportunity I had been waiting for, and turning towards Sir Henry I said impressively:—
“And do you know, Sir Henry, everything I have today I owe to you.”
Sir Henry looked at me very puzzled, and I went on.
“Yes, sheep station, lands, houses — everything. Every brick I own, every yard of land, indeed, every penny I possess, came to me in the first instance through you.”
“Well, I’m very pleased, indeed, Mr. Stratton, very pleased, but,” smiling and shrugging his shoulders, “I’m quite in the dark.”
“Oh, do tell us, Mr. Stratton,” said Mrs. Townley; “I’m sure it’ll be a nice story.”
They all looked at me interestedly, but Mary, I noticed, seemed rather embarrassed. She dropped her eyes on her plate and nervously38 crumbled39 a piece of bread between her pretty white fingers.
“Well, it was like this,” I began. “One Saturday a little over a year ago, I had no money at all. I had never had much at any time, but the little I did have had been stolen from me, and I was very hard up. You dropped your pocket book, Sir Henry, in King William Street, by the G.P.O. I picked it up and returned it to you, and you gave me a ten-pound note. At first I didn’t want to take it, but,” and here I flashed a look at Mary, who looked up and smiled encouragingly, “I did. Well, I was so shabby that I thought the only place to change the ten-pound note was at the post office, where they wouldn’t ask me any questions. So I bought a post card to get change, and I was so pleased and excited at having so much money that in fun I sat down, there and then, and wrote myself a post card. I remember, I congratulated myself upon the good luck that had come, and told myself everything would now be all right. I addressed the post card to myself, care of the G.P.O., and slipped it in the box.
“Then I went to the races and turned that ten pounds into nearly three hundred in the afternoon.”
“Great Scott!” ejaculated the admiral, “what did you back?”
“Be quiet at once, admiral,” remonstrated40 Mrs. Townley, “don’t interrupt, or you shan’t have any port.”
The admiral made a wry41 face at me and subsided42. I went on: “Well, on the Monday I was passing the post office, and I happened to remember quite casually43 about the post card. I went in for it, and found there was a letter waiting for me as well — a letter from my cousin at Velvet Hills. I had never dreamed of him writing to me, for we had quarrelled, and he was the last person in the world I should have expected a letter from. Well, I went up to Pimba, as my cousin begged me to in his letter, and made it up with him. I was with him for nine months, and when he died he left me all he had. The point is, Sir Henry, that if you hadn’t given me that ten-pound note, I should never have bought a post card, and should never have called for any more letters at all. I should never have gone near my cousin, and he would have left everything to his brother-in-law, already a rich man, who was a hot favourite, and lived on the spot. So, that is why I owe everything to you.”
“Well, sir,” said Sir Henry, after a moment’s silence, “I’m sure I’m very glad to have been the unwitting means of helping44 you. I remember the circumstances very well. There was over ￡200 in that pocket book, and it was a shock to me when you brought it to the car. I didn’t know I had dropped it. And you went and actually made nearly ￡300 at the races?”
“Yes, I had ￡2 on Rose of Dawn at sixty-one and a half to one, and afterwards ￡50 on the favourite in the last race, Rattler’s Pride.”
“Well,” broke in the admiral, “you deserve to win. Anyone who had the pluck to put fifty quid on Rattler’s Pride ought to get everything he wants in this world. The rotten beast belongs to a friend of mine, and he’d never won a race before nor has done since. Confound him.”
“Take no notice of Admiral James, Mr. Stratton,” said Mrs. Townley, “he’s a terrible gambler and a shocking judge of form. How he ever came to put a pound on Rataplan the other day puzzles me. But what a wonderful romance yours is; and it’s all happened in such a short space of time, too!”
We went into the drawing-room after luncheon, and seeing a violin on the piano, I guessed at once it was Mary’s, and picked it up.
“Do you play, Mr. Stratton?” asked Mary in a voice that to me had become the sweetest sound in all the world.
“Yes, a bit,” I replied, in a non-commital way.
“Oh! then you must try my violin and tell me what you think of it. Father gave it to me only the other day.”
The others chimed in with their requests, and I was invited to choose what piece of music I liked from a heap on the table. Mary said she would accompany me.
I turned over the pieces of music, and almost at once came upon “Love’s Old Sweet Song.”
Could anything be more appropriate I thought, as I placed it before Mary on the piano.
Mary got a little red and gave me a quick look, half shy and half amused I thought, but I didn’t care. There was going to be nothing of the timid I-don’t-know-my-own mind sort of business about my wooing.
I snuggled the violin up closely to my chin, thinking happily all the while that it was Mary’s and that many a time she must have put her own dear little chin where I was now resting mine. I even thought I could smell a delicious scent45 about it, a perfume that could have only come direct from her.
Mary commenced playing at once to cover her embarrassment, and in a few seconds the violin joined in.
Now I flattered myself I was in good form, and just in the very mood to do justice to the piece I had selected.
With all its sweetness, it is a sad, haunting melody, and I tried to bring out something of the unsatisfied and hungry yearning46 that runs like a crimson47 thread through the bars. I tried to portray48, not only the rapture49 and the longing50 of passion, but also the sighs and the tears that must so often follow it to its end.
There was an appreciative51 silence for a few seconds when I had finished, and then they all broke into a chorus of thanks.
I played several pieces more, and it was nearly four o’clock when Rataplan was finally brought round to the door for my return home.
Then I asked Sir Henry if he would like to try the gelding’s paces, and he trotted52 unsuspiciously up and down the avenue, whilst I talked to Mary.
It was the first time I had been alone with her. She was now quite at her ease, and took possession of me in a charming way.
“I remember you so well,” she said with a smile that showed up a perfect row of little even white teeth; “that day at the post office I mean, and I saw you again a few days after, but you were differently dressed then.”
I stood opposite to her watching the pretty upturned face with calculating and devouring53 eyes. Now that I could take her in calmly, I noticed a difference in her from a year ago. She was a little more of a woman now, a little less of a girl. Her figure was a little fuller and the soft curves of her body spoke now of a beauty ripening54 quickly to its most bewitching days.
“Miss Vane,” I replied as impressively as I could, “I never forgot you, and whenever I have seen you since I have always remembered what you told me when Sir Henry wanted me to take the ten-pound note. You said then it would bring me luck.”
“And so it has; but I suppose, manlike, you’re not content,” she went on laughing.
“No, there are other things I want badly, but I’m going to get those too now,” and I smiled back at her in the same laughing way.
She reddened up a little and seemed about to say something, when Sir Henry pulled up and dismounted from Rataplan.
“Mr. Stratton,” he exclaimed enthusiastically, “you’ve given me a great treat. I’m sure I’ve never had my legs over anything finer in my life.”
A little later and I rode home slowly in a delicious reverie.
I loved Mary with the strongest passion of my life, and a sure instinct told me that when I asked her she would come gladly to my arms. How sweet and dainty she had looked, I thought, and what pretty, clinging ways she had. But with all her gentleness, what courage there was there! She had looked straight back at me I remembered, with those calm, clear eyes of hers, and told me instinctively55, without fear or shame, that one day at the propitious56 hour, the making or the marring of her happiness would pass to me and all she could offer would be mine.
Two days after the luncheon at Aviemore I met the Chief in his car on North Terrace. Seeing me, he pulled up at once.
“By Jove, young man, you’ve got a nerve,” he said. “You’ll get on all right. Practically inviting57 yourself to lunch, playing ‘Love’s Old Sweet Song’ to Miss Mary, and looking at her all the time as if she already belonged to you. No, you needn’t get indignant. No one told me that. I only heard what happened, and I guessed at once you’d planned and schemed it all. Buying those two fillies to get Sir Henry in a good humour, you young dog! Well, good luck to you, my boy, I won’t give you away.”
And he tootled off before I could get in a reply.
The following Saturday at Cheltenham it seemed all Adelaide was there. There was a good programme provided, and Rataplan was in the Steeplechase in the fourth race.
He was in with eleven stone two, and to my disgust I found I should have to declare five pounds over-weight.
I spoke to Mary and Sir Henry in the paddock, and they both wished me good luck; Sir Henry with a warning that he wouldn’t answer for my safety if the admiral lost his pound, and Mary with a gentle pressure of the dear little hand that for a moment I held happily in mine.
“Now, Mr. Stratton,” said Sir Henry, in tones of mock entreaty58, “don’t go and let us all down. The admiral has found a bookmaker who’s given him twelve to one against Rataplan on the strength of your riding, and my daughter, I believe, is going to take a five-shilling ticket for Mrs. Townley in the ladies’ tote. We shall all be on the stand, and if you don’t hear us shout as you go by, it won’t be because we don’t want you to win.”
Keys came up to me just as I had got into my colours, lilac and old gold. He was grinning, as usual.
“Good luck to you, sir,” he said heartily. “The boys are all friendly and most of them hope you’ll win. I’m on Braintree — not a ghost of a chance unless all the others fall. Red Pottage will be the favourite with Spiffins up. You look out for Red Pottage, Mr. Stratton. They’re a rum lot. If the stable means business today, and Spiffins is really out for blood, he’ll lie handy with Red Pottage, see if he doesn’t, until just before he reaches the Derby Stand, and then he’ll come on with a spurt59 that will shake up even Rataplan. Don’t forget sir, Red Pottage was a sprinter60 once.”
I thanked Keys gratefully for his information about Red Pottage, but I was quite aware already that today at least I could play no tricks with Rataplan. We were up against some of the best fencers in South Australia, and an amateur jockey riding against professionals is always at a disadvantage to the extent of quite seven pounds.
I should be the only amateur riding, and although I had done a considerable amount of steeplechasing behind the lines in France, experience is a thing that counts more than anything in racing, and I knew I should be miles behind some of my present opponents in general craft and local knowledge of the course.
My great hope was that Rataplan being so extraordinarily61 good, his quality would make up for any deficiencies I might have.
It was a great moment however for me when I rode out on to the course in all the glory of lilac and old gold.
Rataplan was perfect in his action, and a buzz of admiration came up as I cantered out before the stand.
Then a section of the crowd began to cheer and laugh ironically. “Owner up and five pound over-weight declared,” seemed to most of them to spell disaster at once, besides being rather cocksure and cheeky as well.
I knew there was a lot of hostility62 to us at the tote, and, judging by the amount being invested, public confidence was at a very low ebb63.
But I wasn’t in the least nettled64 by the action of the crowd; instead, I nodded back smilingly to them, as if I wanted them to understand I wasn’t worrying at all, and was only out just for a bit of fun.
Their cheers seemed to change a little at that, and one man called out encouragingly, “Well, he’s a well plucked ’un, anyhow.”
Turning round, I put the gelding to a fine sharp gallop65 back to the starting post.
The crowd might sneer66, I thought, but, at any rate, they should see I could ride, and was master, too, of the fine animal I was handling.
Rataplan stretched himself out and gave them a most perfect exhibition of a thoroughbred in action.
I heard afterwards that in that half-minute we made plenty of friends, and in the last few minutes for investment the totalisator was busier on our behalf than at any time previously67.
The start took place right on the other side of the course, with the railway line not a hundred yards distant.
Rataplan never liked trains, and I was hoping none would come by when we were getting ready. Just at the last moment, however, one pulled up noisily, and the gelding began to fidget and turn and try to break away.
I was drawn68 number twelve out of the fifteen, and was right away from the rails, and consequently quite near to the beastly engine that had come up.
Rataplan gave me a lot of trouble, and I knew the people on the stands would be cursing the rotten amateur who was delaying the start.
The start, however, was a good one at last, and we all got off in a straight line.
Rataplan was preparing to treat himself to his usual generous allowance of time in getting fairly going, but the engine-driver made his engine shriek69 suddenly just as we started, and the effect on the gelding was electrical.
He burst away at a tremendous bat, and fifty yards from the start I was clear ahead of all the others by at least three lengths.
“Good,” I said to myself. “Now, my beauty, you shall just stop here. I ask for nothing better.”
It was just what I wanted. I was out well by myself and clear from all the bustle70 and dangers that would attend the jumps.
Coming past the stands I was on excellent terms with myself, and didn’t mind who saw it.
We were leading by about five lengths, and Rataplan was going in faultless style. He was setting the field a fine pace, and already there was a good tail behind us. Coming to the stand fence he skimmed over it like a bird, and I heard afterwards it was then that it began to dawn for the first time upon some of the doubters in the stands that there might be some good after all in the riding of the presumptuous71 amateur before them.
At any rate, it was then that the jockeys behind me began to get uneasy. Up to now they had evidently thought the pace too hot to last, and that Rataplan would soon come back to the other horses. But more than a third of the distance had now been accomplished72, and I was still slowly but surely drawing away.
I could feel rather than see them get busy on their mounts, and the noise and shouting of them behind me became gradually clearer.
I quickened up Rataplan ever so little however, and kept still just in front until we came opposite the stands on the other side of the course.
Then out of the tail of my eye I took stock of my opponents.
There were evidently only four of us to be reckoned with. Save for a fall the rest were too far behind me now to be dangerous.
Storm King was nearest to me, but Vexatious and the redoubtable73 Red Pottage were running barely half a length behind him. All the three of them seemed full of running, and only biding74 their time.
None of us yet were fully3 extended.
At the six-furlong post Vexatious was closing on Storm King, with the two now about a length behind me.
Red Pottage was going easily, level with their flanks. I was not hurrying my mount in the least, but was waiting for the final rush, determined however, to get mine in first.
There would be some heart-breaking for the moment on the stands, I thought, for to those watching there it must have seemed as if Rataplan had almost shot his bolt, and was now first only on sufferance.
About half a mile from home, however, I suddenly urged the gelding almost to top pace, and he put daylight at once between us and his three opponents.
My manoeuvre75 seemed rather to upset the others. Again I guessed they evidently thought the pace too hot to last, but not knowing how much I had in hand, and the winning post being now so much nearer, this time they couldn’t afford to take any risks.
So after me they all came full pelt76, and a nice pace I led them.
Vexatious cracked up in less than fifty yards, but Red Pottage and Storm King came on in good fighting style, and, running well together, again got to within a length of me.
We took the last fence exactly in this order, and one hundred yards from home our positions were unchanged.
A mighty77 roar came up from the stands, and a wave of terrible but delicious excitement thrilled through me.
I kept my head, however, and steadying the gelding for one final rush, brought my whip down once sharply on his flank.
The pace instantly became terrific, but I felt my weight was telling, and that Rataplan was now all out.
Storm King dropped away to nothingness, but, to my dismay, the outstretched head of Red Pottage loomed78 slowly up alongside and drew level with my girths. A terrible doubt oppressed me.
Rataplan could go no faster, I knew. Could he, indeed, keep up any longer the fierce pace he was now going?
Could Red Pottage go any faster either, or had the long run-in I had provided for him taken it all out of him in his turn.
I rode as in a dream with the great quivering head near beside me, and then, as in a dream too, the head jerked quickly forward, stopped, drew back and faded right away.
Red Pottage had shot his bolt, but Rataplan was stopping quickly too, and it was by one length only that we ran in first past the post.
I received a great ovation79 from the crowd. Most of them were losers over my success — Rataplan returned ￡11 5s. — but they were good sports and pleased to see an amateur win.
They quite mobbed the gelding in the paddock, and everyone I knew crowded round to congratulate me.
Mary looked happy as a queen, and awarded me a warm shake of her dear little hand.
“You rode splendidly, Mr. Stratton,” she said. “I never saw a horse and rider so fitted for each other; we were thrilled all the way through.”
The old admiral was full of glee. “By gad80, my boy,” he positively81 shouted directly he came near, “but it was a close thing. I thought my quid had gone west over yonder. I was nearly selling it to Miss Vane; she offered me ten shillings for it, but fortunately I didn’t take it.”
Sir Henry, too, was all smiles. He had had a tenner on me.
“You hit the Red Pottage lot, all right, young man,” he said. “They’d almost put the stable door on, so much so that if they’d won they would only have got ‘five to four on’ for their money at the tote. But I understand they had backed it heavily at twos before the race. You upset Master Spiffins by coming away so soon; he said if you hadn’t he’d have had you right enough.”
Before the Vane party left the course that afternoon, Mrs. Townley asked me to come up to dinner the following Wednesday. I was indeed getting on, I thought.
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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carnation
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| n.康乃馨（一种花） | |
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hack
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| n.劈，砍，出租马车；v.劈，砍，干咳 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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7
embarking
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| 乘船( embark的现在分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
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8
shred
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| v.撕成碎片，变成碎片；n.碎布条，细片，些少 | |
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tricky
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| adj.狡猾的，奸诈的；(工作等)棘手的，微妙的 | |
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jade
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| n.玉石；碧玉；翡翠 | |
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ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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armistice
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| n.休战，停战协定 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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prettily
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| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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18
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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genially
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| adv.亲切地，和蔼地；快活地 | |
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unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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pique
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| v.伤害…的自尊心，使生气 n.不满，生气 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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plucky
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| adj.勇敢的 | |
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luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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insinuate
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| vt.含沙射影地说，暗示 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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beckoning
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| adj.引诱人的，令人心动的v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的现在分词 ) | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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crumbled
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| （把…）弄碎， （使）碎成细屑( crumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 衰落； 坍塌； 损坏 | |
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remonstrated
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| v.抗议( remonstrate的过去式和过去分词 )；告诫 | |
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wry
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| adj.讽刺的；扭曲的 | |
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subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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portray
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| v.描写，描述；画(人物、景象等) | |
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rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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51
appreciative
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| adj.有鉴赏力的，有眼力的；感激的 | |
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trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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devouring
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| 吞没( devour的现在分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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ripening
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| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的现在分词 )；熟化；熟成 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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propitious
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| adj.吉利的；顺利的 | |
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inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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spurt
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| v.喷出；突然进发；突然兴隆 | |
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60
sprinter
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| n.短跑运动员，短距离全速奔跑者 | |
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extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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ebb
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| vi.衰退，减退；n.处于低潮，处于衰退状态 | |
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nettled
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| v.拿荨麻打，拿荨麻刺（nettle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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67
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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68
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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69
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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71
presumptuous
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| adj.胆大妄为的，放肆的，冒昧的，冒失的 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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73
redoubtable
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| adj.可敬的；可怕的 | |
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74
biding
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| v.等待，停留( bide的现在分词 )；居住；（过去式用bided）等待；面临 | |
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75
manoeuvre
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| n.策略，调动；v.用策略，调动 | |
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pelt
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| v.投掷，剥皮，抨击，开火 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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ovation
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| n.欢呼，热烈欢迎，热烈鼓掌 | |
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gad
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| n.闲逛；v.闲逛 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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