Gold cup, says he.

Who won, Mr Lenehan? says Terry.

Throwaway, says he, at twenty to one. A rank outsider. And the rest nowhere.

And Bass’s mare? says Terry.

Still running, says he. We’re all in a cart. Boylan plunged two quid on my tip Sceptre for himself and a lady friend.

I had half a crown myself, says Terry, on Zinfandel that Mr Flynn gave me. Lord Howard de Walden’s.

Twenty to one, says Lenehan. Such is life in an outhouse. Throwaway, says he. Takes the biscuit, and talking about bunions.

Frailty, thy name is Sceptre.

So he went over to the biscuit tin Bob