She felt sick and wanted to leave, but Rory informed her he had a bet on the next fight and promised to go as soon as it was over.
The handsome white fowl on which Rory had unwisely placed his money was soon reduced to raw meat and feathers. Cursing his ill-luck, Rory kept his word and led a grateful Lucy out into the fresh air again. These were sides of her husband she didn't like; the ease with which he gambled and his obvious enjoyment of blood sports. Dog fights, bull-baiting, c**k-fighting, it was all the same to him.
He'd place a bet and watch the contest with mounting excitement, weaving this way and that as his body followed the movements of the animal that his money was on, yelling in delight at the sight of a spurting wound, groaning as his champion fell. After the contest, he
