Read it through once

On the day of the race Esther walked through the streets like one daft, stupidly interested in the passers-by and the disputes that arose between the drivers of cabs and omnibuses. Now and then her thoughts collected, and it seemed to her impossible that the mare should win. If she did they would have £2,500, and would go to Egypt. But she could not imagine such a thing; it seemed so much more natural that the horse should lose, and that her husband should die, and that she should have to face the world once more. She offered up prayers that Chasuble might win, although it did not seem right to address God on the subject, but her heart often felt like breaking, and she had to do something. And she had no doubt that God would forgive her. But now that the day had come she did not feel as if he had granted her request. At the same time it did not seem possible that her husband was going to die. It was all so hard to understand.