The fact was that he had travelled once to Woore races with the
talkative Heath, and that Heath had introduced him to his brother
Stanny Heath, a local book-maker of some reputation, from whom Louis
had won five pounds ten during the felicitous day. Ever afterwards Bob
Heath had effusively saluted Louis on every possible occasion, and had
indeed once stopped him in the street and said: "My brother treated
you all right, didn't he? Stanny's a true sport." And Louis had to
be effusive also. It would never do to be cold to a man from whose
brother you had won--and received--five pounds ten on a racecourse.
So that when Louis followed Rachel into Heath's shop at the top
of Duck Bank the fat and happy Heath gave him a greeting in which
astonishment and warm regard were mingled. The shop was empty of
customers, and also it contained little meat, for Heath's was not
exactly a Saturday-night trade. Bob Heath, clothed from head to foot
in slightly blood-stained white, stood behind one hacked counter, and
Mrs. Heath, similarly attired, and rather stouter, stood behind the
other; and each possessed a long steel which hung from an ample loose
girdle.
Heath, a man of forty, had a salute somewhat military in gesture,
though conceived in a softer, more accommodating spirit.
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