In the midst of his excitement
there came to him a feeling that he was allowing himself to do
just that which he had intended to avoid. But then the occasion
was so peculiar! How often can it happen to a man in his life
that he shall own a favourite for the Derby! The affair was one
in which it was almost necessary that he should risk a little
money.
Tifto, when he got into his bed, was altogether happy. He had
added whisky-and-water to his champagne, and feared nothing. If
Prime Minister should win the Derby he would be able to pay all
that he owed, and to make a start with money in his pocket. And
then there would be attached to him all the infinite glory of
being the owner of the winner of the Derby. The horse was run in
his name. Thoughts as to great successes crowded themselves upon
his heated brain. What might not be open to him? Parliament! The
Jockey Club! The mastership of one of the crack shire packs! Might
it not come to pass that he should some day become the great
authority in England upon races, racehorses, and hunters? If he
could be the winner of the Derby and Leger he thought that
Glasslough and Lupton would snub him no longer, that even Tregear
would speak to him, and that his pal the Duke's son would never
throw him aside again.
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