Brailstone and Fleetwood jumped to the grass and met, talking and laughing, precise upon points of business, otherwise cordial:  plenipotentiaries of great powers, whom they have set in motion and bind to the ceremonial opening steps, according to the rules of civilized warfare.  They had a short colloquy with newspaper reporters;—­an absolutely fair, square, upright fight of Britons was to be chronicled.  Captain Abrane, a tower in the crowd, registered bets whenever he could.  Curricles, gigs, carts, pony-traps, boys on ponies, a swarm on legs, flowed to the central point and huddled there.

Was either champion born in Kent?  An audacious boy proclaimed Kit Ines a man of Kent.  Why, of course he was! and that was why the Earl of Fleetwood backed our cocky Kitty, and means to land him on the top of his profession.  Ben Todds was shuffled aside; as one of their Londoners, destitute of county savour.

All very well, but have a spy at Benny Todds.  Who looks the square man?  And hear what that big gentleman of the other lord’s party says.  A gentleman of his height and weight has a right to his opinion.  He ’s dead against Kit Ines:  it’s fists, not feet, he says, ’ll do it to-day; stamina, he says.  Benny has got the stamina.

Todds’ possession of the stamina, and the grand voice of Captain Abrane, and the Father Christmas, roast-beef-of-Old England face of the umpire declared to be on the side of Lord Brailstone’s colour blue, darkened the star of Kit Ines till a characteristic piece of behaviour was espied.  He dashed his cap into the ring and followed it, with the lightest of vaults across the ropes.  There he was, the first in the ring:  and that stands for promise of first blow, first blood, first flat knock-down, and last to cry for quarter.  His pair of seconds were soon after him.  Fleetwood mounted his box.

‘Is it to fight?’ said Carinthia.

‘To see which is the master.’

‘They fight to see?’

’Generally until one or the other can’t see.  You are not obliged to see it; you can be driven away if you wish.’

‘I will be here, if you are here.’

‘You choose it.’

Fleetwood leaned over to Chumley Potts on the turf.  ’Abrane’s ruining himself.’

Potts frankly hoped that his friend might be doing so.  ’Todds is jolly well backed.  He’s in prime condition.  He’s the favourite of the knowing ones.’

‘You wouldn’t have the odds, if he weren’t.’

’No; but the odds are like ten per cent.:  they conjure the gale, and be hanged,’ said Potts; he swore at his betting mania, which destroyed the pleasure of the show he loved.

All in the ring were shaking hands.  Shots of a desire to question and comment sped through Carinthia’s veins and hurt her.  She had gathered that she spoke foolishly to her husband’s ear, so she kept her mouth shut, though the unanswered of her inquisitive ignorance in the strange land pricked painfully at her bosom.  She heard the girl behind her say:  ‘Our colours!’ when the colour scarlet unwound with Lord Brailstone’s blue was tied to the stake:  and her husband nodded; he smiled; he liked to hear the girl.