Esther gave him a little milk to drink, and he said--
"There's a hundred pounds left, Esther. It isn't much, but it's something.
I don't believe that there's much use in my going to Egypt. I shall never
get well. It is better that I should pitch myself into the river. That
would be the least selfish way out of it."
"William, I will not have you talk in that way," Esther said, laying down
her work and going over to him. "If you was to do such a thing I should
never forgive you. I could never think the same of you."
"All right, old girl, don't be frightened. I've been thinking too much
about them horses, and am a bit depressed. I daresay it will come out all
right. I think that Mahomet is sure to win the Great Ebor, don't you?"
"I don't think there's no better judge than yourself. They all say if he
don't fall lame that he's bound to win."
"Then Mahomet shall carry my money. I'll back him to-morrow."
Now that he had made up his mind what horse to back his spirits revived.
He was able to dismiss the subject from his mind, and they talked of other
things, of their son, and they laid projects for his welfare. But on the
day of the race, from early morning, William could barely contain himself.
Usually he took his winnings and losings very quietly. When he had been
especially unlucky he swore a bit, but Esther had never seen any great
excitement before a race was run.
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