Just beneath where she sat
two men were having a most energetic duel of words. A slim, darkskinned
youth, across whose fox-like face was written in large letters the word
"Tout," was hammering into his obdurate companion the impossibility of
some certain horse being defeated. Presently the other man's hand went
into his pocket, and when it came forth again five ten-dollar bills were
counted with nervous reluctance and hesitatingly made over to the Tout.
Tight clutching his prize this pilot of the race course slipped from
Allis's sight and became lost in the animated mass that heaved and
swayed like full-topped grain in a harvest breeze.
Within all that enclosure there seemed no one possessed of any calm. To
the quiet girl it was a strange revelation; no one could have as much at
stake as she had, and yet over her spirit there was nothing beyond the
lethargy of depression. No; no one is calm, she thought. Ah, the
assertion was too sweeping. Coming up the steps, just at her right, was
a man who might have been walking in a quiet meadow, or a full-leafed
forest, for all there was of agitation in his presence. A sudden new
thought came to Allis; she had never seen that face distraught but once.
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