Well, that was just ridiculous, and Ford did not think it would be letting on to too much to say so. "Name the stable?" he asked dryly. "We hardly have room for such a thing. Marry someone who enjoys the races if you fancy naming horses," he suggested. He took a drink and cast about until he found a discarded copy of the Prophet, less because he was inclined to read it and more because he wanted a clear visual representation of his unwillingness to continue the conversation.