ing up to offer him
congratulations. He turned to take his horse into the Paddock, and Lord
Robert took Glory down after him. The trainer and jockey were there,
looking proud and happy, and Drake, with a pale and triumphant face, was
walking the great creature about as if reluctant to part with it. It was
breathing heavily, and sweat stood in drops on its throat, head, and
ears.

"Oh, you beauty! How I should love to ride you!" said Glory.

"But dare you?" said Drake.

"Dare I! Only give me the chance."

"I will, by----I will, or it won't be my fault."

Somebody brought champagne and Glory had to drink a bumper to "the best
horse of the century, bar none." Then her glass was filled afresh and she
had to drink to the owner, "the best fellow on earth, bar none," and
again she was compelled to drink "to the best bit of history ever made at
Epsom, bar none." With that she was excused while the men drank at
Drake's proposal "to the loveliest, liveliest, leeriest little woman in
the world, God bless her!" and she hid her face in her hands and said
with a merry laugh:

"Tell me when it's over, boys, and I'll come again."

After Drake had despatched telegrams and been bombarded by interviewers,
he led the way back to the coach on the Hill, and the company prepared
for their return. The sun had now gone, a thick veil of stagnant clouds
had gathered over it, the sky looked sulky, and Glory's head tad begun to
ache between the eyes. Rosa was to go home by train in order to reach her
office early, and Glory half wished to accompany her. But an understudy
was to play her part that night and she had no excuse. The coach wormed
its way through the close pack of vehicles at the top of the Hill and
began to follow the ebbing tide of humanity back to London.

"But what about my pair of gloves?"

"Oh, you're a hard man, reaping where you have not sowed and
gathering----"

"There, then, we're quits," said Drake, leaning over from the box seat
and snatching a kiss of her. It was now clear that he had been drinking a
good deal.

V.

Before the race had been run, a solitary man with a dog at his heels had
crossed the Downs on his way back to the railway station. Jealousy and
rage possessed his heart between them, but he would not recognise these
passions; he believed his emotions to be horror and pity and shame. John
Storm had seen Glory on the race-course, in Drake's company, under
Drake's protection: he proud and trium