Seeing her back at the old price made William look so
hopeful that a patient stopped as he passed down the corridor, and
catching sight of the _Sportsman_ on William's lap, he asked him if he was
interested in racing. William told him that he was, and that if Chasuble
won he would be able to go to Egypt.
"Them that has money can buy health as well as everything else. We'd all
get well if we could get out there."
William told him how much he stood to win.
"That'll keep you going long enough to set you straight. You say the
mare's backed at ten to one--two hundred to twenty. I wonder if I could
get the money. I might sell up the 'ouse."
But before he had time to realise the necessary money the mare was driven
back to eighteen to one, and he said--
"She won't win. I might as well leave the wife in the 'ouse. There's no
luck for them that comes 'ere."
On the day of the race Esther walked through the streets like one daft,
stupidly interested in the passers-by and the disputes that arose between
the drivers of cabs and omnibuses. Now and then her thoughts collected,
and it seemed to her impossible that the mare should win. If she did they
would have L2,500, and would go to Egypt. But she could not imagine such a
thing; it seemed so much more natural that the horse should lose, and that
her husband should die, and that she should have to face the world once
more.
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