TheCompleteMemoirsOfGeorgeSherston

don't mind telling you, this something course would
break the heart of a blank buffalo. It's nothing but
twists and turns, and there isn't a something fence
you could go fast at without risking your something
neck, and a nice hope I've got on that blank sketchy
jumper of Brandwick's!"

Before I could think of an answer his boon com-
panion in blasphemy, Bill Jaggett, came in (em-
bellished with a brown billycock hat and black and
white check breeches). Jaggett began chaffing him
about the something unhealthy ride he was going to
have in the Heavy Weights. "I'll lay you a tenner
to a fiver you don't get round without falling," he
guffawed. Pomfret took the bet and called him a
pimply faced bastard into the bargain.

I thought I might as well get dressed up: when I
had pulled my boots on and was very deliberately
tucking the straps in with the boot-hook, Stephen
strolled in; he was already wearing his faded pink
cap, and the same elongated and anxious counten-
ance which I had seen a year ago. No doubt my own
face matched his. When we'd reassured one another
about the superlative fitness of our horses he asked
if I'd had any lunch, and as I hadn't he produced a
bar of chocolate and an orange, which I was glad
to get. Stephen was always thoughtful of other
people.

The shouts of the bookies were now loudening
outside in the sunlight, and when I'd slipped on my
raincoat we went out to see what we could of the
Light Weight Race.

The first two races were little more than the clam-
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