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“And now, at last, we are here. Now Eric fingers his glass and questions me hopefully, while the music of Muthaiga marches through our talk, and festive people clasp hands, revive old toasts -- and make bets on tomorrow's Leger. One hundred pounds -- two hundred pounds... "Has the filly a chance?" "Against Wrack? Of course not." "Don't be too sure... don't be too sure. Why, I remember..." Well, that's what makes a horse-race.” — Beryl Markham
And now, at last, we are here. Now Eric fingers his glass and questions me hopefully, while the music of Muthaiga marches through our talk, and festive people clasp hands, revive old toasts -- and make bets on tomorrow's Leger.
One hundred pounds -- two hundred pounds...
"Has the filly a chance?"
"Against Wrack? Of course not."
"Don't be too sure... don't be too sure. Why, I remember..."
Well, that's what makes a horse-race.