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Updated: June 10, 2025
Chifney such entertainings as the present marked the red-letter days of her calendar. Temporarily she forgave Chifney the doubtful nature of his calling and his occasional outbreaks of profane swearing alike. She ceased to regret that snug might-have-been, little, grocery business in a country town.
"In the Gun-Room, on the tiger-skin." Honoria did not look round. Her voice grew perceptibly husky. "Chifney and I sat up with him that last night." "You and Chifney?" Lady Calmady exclaimed, almost in protest. "Yes. Of course the men would have been as kind as kind could be. Only I had a feeling you would be glad to know I was there, later, when we told you.
Chifney, her cheeks pink, her manner slightly fluttered, as were her lilac cap strings, presided over the silver tea and coffee service, admonished the staid and bulky tom-cat who, jumping on the arm of Dickie's chair, extended a scooping tentative paw towards his plate, and issued gentle though peremptory orders to her husband regarding the material needs of her guest. To Mrs.
As the horses filed away through the misty sunshine Preiston riding beside the fourth or fifth of the string, while Richard and Chifney brought up the rear, his chestnut suiting its paces to the shorter stride of the trainer's cob the fever of the night cooled down in him. Half thankfully, half amusedly, he perceived things begin to assume their normal relations.
And the hard-bitten, irascible, old trainer, Tom Chifney, was happier probably really the happiest of the lot since he demanded nothing more recondite and far-reaching than restoration to favour, and due recognition of the importance of his calling and of the merits of his horses. And nice, funny, voluble, little Dick Ormiston was happier too.
Egremont in the delight of an English patrician scarcely saw Mango, and never even thought of Phosphorus Phosphorus, who, by the bye, was the first horse that showed, with both his forelegs bandaged. They are off! As soon as they are well away, Chifney makes the running with Pocket Hercules. Up to the Rubbing House he is leading; this is the only point the eye can select.
And he was fixed there, unable to get away because yes, of course, he was Witherington, so there was no need of further explanation of that inability of escape. And still, at the same time, he could see Chifney on the handsome gray cob, trotting soberly along the green ride, beside the long string of race-horses coming home from exercise.
He spoke of persons with whom she was well acquainted also, and whose names arrested her attention with pathetic significance, offering, for the moment, secure standing ground amid the shifting quicksand of his but half-comprehended words. He spoke of Morabita, the famous prima donna, and of gentle Mrs. Chifney down at the Brockhurst racing-stables.
Chifney was in a condition of singular emotion, as he wrapped Richard's rug about him and bore him away into the stables. He even went so far as to swear a little under his breath; and Chifney was a very fairly clean-mouthed man, unless members of his team of twenty and odd naughty boys got up to some devilry with their charges.
And tell them to send Chifney word I shall not be out to see the gallops this morning. I really believe those dreams half frightened me. I feel so absurdly used up. And then Kitty, where are you? put your arms round me and I'll go to sleep again." He smiled at her quite naturally and stroked her cheek. "My sweet, your face is all wet and cold!" he said. "Make Richard a good boy.
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