If her eyes stand, as I daresay they will, she’ll turn out as tight a little thing as any in England.” “If you think that, Ned, you’re tight yourself,” his friend retorted. “That mare of yours is too long in the fore.” “She’s not, I tell you. She’s as fleet as the wind. Why, I raced with Dicky and Will all the way from Cambridge to Newmarket. Dicky rode his roan, and Will his chestnut mare—and you know both have speed—but I beat them all hollow.” With true sportsman’s taste, the one called Ned wore the single-breasted dark green riding coat known as a Newmarket, over buff smallclothes, with cordovan boots and a top hat with a narrow, turned-up brim. His friend wore similar attire, giving both the look of fashionable sporting men. Neither, however, had yet found cause to suppress youthful enthusiasm in favor of the more fashionable air of ennui. The one called Jerry grinned. “If you expect a victory over Dicky and Will to convince me that you’re a knowing one where racers are concerned, you’re out, Ned.
What do You think about Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 04]?
