d looks. Hillyard was presented to Dennis and Miranda Brown, a young
couple two years married, and to Mr. Harold Jupp, a man of Hillyard's
age. Harold Jupp was a queer-looking person with a long, thin, brown
face, and a straight, wide mouth too close to a small pointed chin.
Harold Jupp carried about with him a very aura of horses. Horses were
his only analogy; he thought in terms of horses; and perhaps, as a
consequence, although he could give no reasons for his judgments upon
people, those judgments as a rule were conspicuously sound. Jupp shook
hands with Hillyard, and turned to the student at the window.

"Well, Joan, how have you lived without us? Aren't you bored with your
large, beautiful self?"

Joan looked at him with an annihilating glance, and crossed the room to
Millie Splay.

"Bored! How could I be? When I have so many priceless wasted hours to
make up for!"

"Yes, yes, my dear," said Millie Splay soothingly. "Come and have some
tea."

"That's it, Joan," cried Jupp, unrepressed by the girl's contempt. "Come
and have tea with the barbarians."

Joan addressed herself to Dennis Brown, as one condescending from
Olympus.

"I hope you had a good day."

"Awful," Dennis Brown admitted. "We ought to have had five nice wins on
form. But they weren't trying, Joan. The way Camomile was pulled. I
expected to see his neck shut up like a concertina."

"Never mind, boys," said Sir Chichester. "You'll get it back before
Friday."

Harold Jupp shook his head doubtfully.

"Never sure about flat-racing. Jumping's the only thing for the poor and
honest backer."

Joan Wentworth looked about her regretfully.

"I understand now why you have all come back so early."

Miranda Brown ran impulsively to her. She was as pretty as a picture,
and spoke as a rule in a series of charming explosions. At this moment
she was deeply wronged.

"Yes, Joan," she cried. "They would go! And I know that I have backed
the winner for the last race."

Dennis Brown contemplated his wife with amazement.

"Miranda, you are crazy," he cried. "He can't win."

Harold Jupp agreed regretfully.

"He's a Plater. That's the truth. A harmless, unnecessary Plater. I sit
at the feet of Miranda Brown, Joan, but as regards horses, she doesn't
know salt from sugar."

Miranda looked calmly at her watch.

"He has already won."

Tea was brought in and consumed. At the end of it Dennis Brown observed
to Harold Jupp:

"We ought to arrange what