Summary

James Greenwood Low-Life Deeps — Chapter 23: The Betting Baker (1881)

I nodded back with as indifferent an air as I could assume, and certainly experienced some relief of mind. But, do as I would, when my curious glance returned to the spot, there was the lucky baker, in such a perspiration of delight, that when he took off his hat to wave it to me I could see that his hair was dabbed close to his forehead and temples like sticking plaster. Again he made arithmetical signs with his digits, but I would not gratify him by looking. I almost began to wish that I was the baker, and to wonder if men ever really were racing prophets without knowing it.
Source: Wikisource

James Greenwood Low-Life Deeps — Chapter 23: The Betting Baker (1881)

I shall now put every shilling - every penny I have got - on Atlantic. Shouldn't I be a fool for flying in the face of my luck, if I did anything else? Why, man alive, it's all as plain to me as the pointing of a finger-post. Listen, now! I am not a knowing man as regards turf matters - not a very knowing man, perhaps I should have said. Indeed, somehow, Lord knows how, I got it into my head that there's nothing can beat this horse for the Derby. I've got the idea so firm in my mind that it don't matter to me what bad rumours there are about this horse.
Source: Wikisource

James Greenwood Low-Life Deeps — Chapter 23: The Betting Baker (1881)

He had declared such to be his intention, and everything had favoured his intention. Nay, why should not I at once say that I know he made the plunge, for whose face was that but the wretched baker's, white as bleached flax, stark stricken, as with staring eyes and mouth agape, he makes out the numbers on the winning board, by which it appears that our mutual fancy was no better than third.
Source: Wikisource

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