Let me
see the paper."
Esther handed it to him.
"Bramble, a fifty to one chance, not a man in a hundred backed her; King
of Trumps, there was some place money lost on him; Young Hopeful, a rank
outsider. What a day for the bookies!"
"You mustn't think of them things no more," said Esther. "You've got the
Book; it'll do you more good."
"If I'd only have thought of Bramble... I could have had a hundred to one
against Matchbox and Bramble coupled."
"What's the use of thinking of things that's over? We should think of the
future."
"If I'd only been able to hedge that bet I should have been able to leave
you something to go on with, but now, when everything is paid for, you'll
have hardly a five-pound note. You've been a good wife to me, and I've
been a bad husband to you."
"Bill, you mustn't speak like that. You must try to make your peace with
God. Think of Him. He'll think of us that you leave behind. I've always
had faith in Him. He'll not desert me."
Her eyes were quite dry; the instinct of life seemed to have left her.
They spoke some little while longer, until it was time for visitors to
leave the hospital. It was not until she got into the Fulham Road that
tears began to run down her cheeks; they poured faster and faster, like
rain after long dry weather. The whole world disappeared in a mist of
tears.
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