We'll
see what we can do for you."
"Oh, Esther, not a word of what I've been telling you to your husband. I
don't want to get Bill into trouble. He'd kill me. Promise me not to
mention a word of it. I oughtn't to have told you. I was so tired that I
didn't know what I was saying."
There was plenty to eat--fried fish, a nice piece of steak, tea and
coffee. "You seem to live pretty well," said Sarah, "It must be nice to
have a servant of one's own. I suppose you're doing pretty well here."
"Yes, pretty well, if it wasn't for William's health."
"What's the matter? Ain't he well?"
"He's been very poorly lately. It's very trying work going about from
race-course to race-course, standing in the mud and wet all day long....
He caught a bad cold last winter and was laid up with inflammation of the
lungs, and I don't think he ever quite got over it."
"Don't he go no more to race meetings?"
"He hasn't been to a race meeting since the beginning of the winter. It
was one of them nasty steeplechase meetings that laid him up."
"Do 'e drink?"
"He's never drunk, but he takes too much. Spirits don't suit him. He
thought he could do what he liked, great strong-built fellow that he is,
but he's found out his mistake."
"He does his betting in London now, I suppose?"
"Yes," said Esther, hesitating--"when he has any to do.
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