But Mr. Urquhart, though he had grasped his secretary’s hand warmly and had seemed pleased to see him, took no more notice of this remark than if it had been some negligible banality uttered by a complete stranger. Wolf, standing by his side, said no more till the procession had passed. His attention began to wander from the great stallions to a mental consideration that made him straighten his own shoulders.

He had suddenly become aware of the felicitous appropriateness of Mr. Urquhart’s clothes; and although his own overcoat was a good one and his cloth-hat new, he felt somehow badly dressed in the man’s company, a feeling that caused him considerable annoyance.

“Damn this accursed snobbishness!” he said to himself, as he contemplated the vast grey flanks of the winner of the third prize. “Why can’t I detach myself absolutely from these things and see them as a visitor from Saturn or Uranus would see them?”