sometimepast.ThiswasthatIhadseventeenquidwhiobodyelsehadheardabout—nobodyinthefamily,thatis.Ithadhappehisinourfirm,Mellorsbyname,hadgotholdofabookcalledAstrologyappliedtoHorse-ragwhichprovedthatit’sallaquestionofinflueheplasonthecoloursthejockeyiswearing.Well,insomeraceorothertherewasamarecalledCorsair’sBride,apleteoutsider,butherjockey’screen,whichitseemedwasjustthecolourfortheplahathappeobeintheasdant.Mellors,whowasdeeplybittenwiththisastrologybusiness,uttingseveralquidonthehorseadownonhiskometodothesame.Intheend,chieflytoshuthimup,Iriskedtenbob,thoughIdoasageneralrule.SureenoughCorsair’sBridecamehomeinawalk.Ifettheexactodds,butmyshareworkedoutatseventeenquid.Byakindofinstinct—ratherqueer,andprobablyindiganotherlandmarkinmylife—Ijustquietlyputthemohebankandsaidnothingtoanybody.I’dneverdohingofthiskindbefoodhusbandandfatherwouldhavespentitonadressforHilda(that’smywife)andbootsforthekids.ButI’dbeenagoodhusbandandfatherforfifteenyearsandIwasbeginningtogetfedupwithit.

    AfterI’dsoapedmyselfalloverIfeltbetterandlaydownihtothinkaboutmyseventeenquidandwhattospenditoernatives,itseemedtome,wereeitheraweek-endwithawomanordribblingitquietlyawayonoddsandendssuchascigarsanddoublewhiskies.I’djustturnedonsomemorehotwaterandwasthinkingaboutwomenandcigarswhentherewasanoiselikeaherdofbuffaloesingdowwostepsthatleadtothebathroom.Itwasthekids,ofcourse.Twokidsinahousethesizeofoursislikeaquartofbeerinapintmug.Therewasafranticstampingoutsideandthenayellofagony.

    ‘Dadda!Iwannaein!’