When in ancient times the Picts were huddled around the fire tossing boiled knuckles for scraps of fat, one's own most noble forebearers were busily gambling away the heathens in the benighted lands to which they were spreading the light of civilization. Commoners bet on coin tosses. The gentry wagers on which butler can iron a newspaper the fastest. Commoners bet on cock-fights and animal races. The gentry has Ascot.
Commoners bet on the daily numbers.
The gentry wagers on whether the vicar will manage the turn at the bottom of Applegate Hill with the brakes on his old bicycle fiddled. Discretion in your future wagers. The local club is accepting wagers of 1000 guineas or more on the last wager cited above. Miss Charity Thornbut's prize roses. Once again, one relinquishes the pen to she who is all things fair, the Lady Felicia.