as no mean passion, but without money, and a good deal of it, likely
to remain a love as airy as her skirts; and Dartie never had any money,
subsisting miserably on what he could beg or borrow from Winifred--a
woman of character, who kept him because he was the father of her
children, and from a lingering admiration for those now-dying Wardour
Street good looks which in their youth had fascinated her. She, together
with anyone else who would lend him anything, and his losses at cards and
on the turf (extraordinary how some men make a good thing out of losses!)
were his whole means of subsistence; for James was now too old and
nervous to approach, and Soames too formidably adamant. It is not too
much to say that Dartie had been living on hope for months. He had never
been fond of money for itself, had always despised the Forsytes with
their investing habits, though careful to make such use of them as he
could. What he liked about money was what it bought--personal sensation.

"No real sportsman cares for money," he would say, borrowing a 'pony' if
it was no use trying for a 'monkey.' There was something delicious about
Montague Dartie. He was, as George Forsyte said, a 'daisy.'

The morning of the Handicap dawned clear and bright, the last day of
September, and Dartie who had travelled to Newmarket the night before,
arrayed himself in spotless checks and walked to an eminence to see his
half of the filly take her final canter: If she won he would be a cool
three thou. in pocket--a poor enough recompense for the sobriety and
patience of these weeks of hope, while they had been nursing her for this
race. But he had not been able to afford more. Should he 'lay it off'
at the eight to one to which she had advanced? This was his single
thought while the larks sang above him, and the grassy downs smelled
sweet, and the pretty filly passed, tossing her head and glowing like
satin.

After all, if he lost it would not be he who paid, and to 'lay it off'
would reduce his winnings to some fifteen hundred--hardly enough to
purchase a dancer out and out. Even more potent was the itch in the
blood of all the Darties for a real flutter. And turning to George he
said: "She's a clipper. She'll win hands down; I shall go the whole
hog." George, who had laid off every penny, and a few besides, and stood
to win, however it came out, grinned down on him from his bulky height,
with the words: "So ho, my wild one!" for after a ch