Paul Warburg looked at Adolf Ochs with dissatisfaction, "This was your business in the first place. I only agreed to step in on your behalf as a friend to speak to Donnie. If you have any objections, I can back out right now. How does that sound?"
Adolf Ochs, seeing Paul Warburg's anger, dared not show further discontent. "I just hope to retain my control over 'The New York Times.' I can agree to all of Donnie's other conditions!"
Paul Warburg saw Adolf Ochs finally behaving and contentedly nodded. "I understand. Don't worry about it!"
.
Inside Atlantic City's stadium, the noise was deafening.
Thirteen racehorses galloped across the track, with countless voices cheering for the horses they had bet on.
In a VIP suite on the third floor, Donnie stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, binoculars in hand, watching the horses race. As the race concluded, Donnie happily pumped his fist in the air.
"Mr. Warburg, I told you that 'Atlantic City's Light' would win this race!"
