They sat on the edges of their chairs, teetering, twisting. Their clothes and manners showed that few of them were at ease amid the splendors of Manhattan's swank Ritz-Carlton Hotel. But it was less their surroundings than the fateful decision that each & every one of them was about to make that caused them to squirm nervously.
Out of a huge drum in Dublin their numbers had been drawn for horses entered in the Cambridgeshire Stakes at Newmarket, England, a race which decides one of...
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