est bit--and we'll make it to-day if ever we did. You go easy and
don't butt in. I've laid all that can be got at the price and the rest's
best in your pocket. You'll want a bit for the other races--eh, what?
You didn't come here to knit stockings, now did you, Anna?"

She laughed with him and returned to see the race. Her excitement gave
her a superb color, heightened her natural beauty and turned many
admiring eyes upon her. To Alban she whispered that she was going to
make a fortune, and he watched her curiously, almost afraid for himself
and for her. When the great thrill passed over the stands and "they're
off" echoed almost as a sound of distant thunder, he crept closer to her
as though to share the excitement of which she was mistress. The specks
upon the green were nothing to him--those dots of color moving swiftly
across the scene, how odd to think that they might bring riches or
beggary in their train! This he knew to be the stern fact, and when men
began to shout hoarsely, to press together and crane their necks, when
that very torrent of sound which named the distance arose, he looked
again at Anna and saw that she was smiling. "She has won," he said, "she
will be happy to-night."

The horses passed the post in a cluster. Alban, unaccustomed to the
objects of a race-course, had not an eye so well trained that he could
readily distinguish the colors or locate with certainty the position of
the "pink--green sleeves--white cap"--the racing jacket of "Count
Donato," as Anna was known to the Jockey Club. He could make out nothing
more than a kaleidoscope of color changing swiftly upon a verdant arena,
this and an unbroken line of people stretching away to the very confines
of the woodlands and a rampart wall of stands and boxes and tents. For
him there were no niceties of effort and of counter-effort. The jockeys
appeared to be so many little monkeys clinging to the necks of wild
chargers who rolled in their distress as though to shake off the imps
tormenting them. The roar of voices affrighted him--he could not
understand that lust of gain which provoked the mad outcry, the sudden
forgetfulness of self and dignity and environment, the absolute
surrender to the desire of victory. Nor was the succeeding silence less
mysterious. It came as the hush in an interval of tempests. The crowd
drew back from the railings and moved about as quietly as though nothing
of any consequence had happened. Anna herself, smiling sti