Leopold, encouraged by William, entered on an elaborate and
technical account of the race. The women listened, playing with a rind of
cheese, glancing at the cheese itself, wondering if they could manage
another slice, and the men sipping their port wine, puffing at their
pipes, William listening most avidly of all, enjoying each sporting term,
and ingeniously reminding Mr. Leopold of some detail whenever he seemed
disposed to shorten his narrative. The criticism of the Demon's
horsemanship took a long while, for by a variety of suggestive remarks
William led Mr. Leopold into reminiscences of the skill of certain famous
jockeys in the first half of the century. These digressions wearied Sarah
and Grover, and their thoughts wandered to the dresses that had been worn
that day, and the lady's-maid remembered she would hear all that
interested her that night in the young ladies' rooms. At last, losing all
patience, Sarah declared that she didn't care what Chifney had said when
he just managed to squeeze his horse's head in front in the last dozen
yards, she wanted to know what the Demon had done to so nearly lose the
race--had he mistaken the winning-post and pulled up? William looked at
her contemptuously, and would have answered rudely, but at that moment Mr.
Leopold began to tell the last instructions that the Gaffer had given the
Demon.
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