"I s'pose you think it's all my fault, then, sir?" she asked, watching the Professor delicately sipping his punch. "I told Miss Gay at Inigo Court it wasn't quite the thing for her, though I saw no reason why she shouldn't go in for it if she chose. Trotting's all right, take it from me, Master Frank--it's the sayings of a lot of outsiders who don't know their book" (the Professor blinked, and regarded his glass fixedly) "that gives it a bad name. Me and Bob's been at it a few years now, and we've done a goodish bit of horseracing in our time too, and always with the half-crown public, so to speak. But I give you my word, I'd sooner be among the Trotting lads than the proper racing crowd." "Might I inquire why?" said the Professor. "Well taken all round, they are a sight straighter than most of the mobs who go racing in silk hats and frock coats, and don't you forget it, Master Frank. I've had a good many things sneaked in a race-course crowd, but I've never had my bag snatched at Trotting, and never expect to. There's a freemasonry among them low people" (the Professor winced and changed his legs) "that won't let 'em interfere with you, even as a stranger on the track. There's bad hats among them, of course, but somehow the fact that a man's coming Trotting is a guarantee among 'em that he's all right, and unless he _arsks_ for it, he'll be let alone, even if dressed in bank-notes. They _may_ be all little men, butchers, fishmongers, and publicans--" She sniffed audibly, and the Professor squirmed; nevertheless, things had begun to look more rosy to his view. That second glass of punch had produced an elation of feeling which he had been entirely without on his arrival, and now, as he put down his empty glass with elaborate precision, and squared his shoulders, there was decision in his tone, if a momentary loss of balance of his person as he said: "I am firm in my resolve, nevertheless, to put a stop to my sister's utter disregard of the conventionalities." His voice sounded unfamiliar in his own ears; he found extraordinary difficulty in separating the words that all ran into one another. Things would be easier, he thought, if only his listener would sit still, and not rock about in her chair so ridiculously.