There were many of them present upon the stage, and in turn they approached Shere Ali and spoke to him with familiarity upon the chances of the fight.

Yet in their familiarity there was a kind of deference.

They were speaking to a patron.

Moreover, there was some flattery in the attention with which they waited to catch his eye and the eagerness with which they came at once to his side.
"We are all glad to see you, sir," said a small man who had been a jockey until he was warned off the turf.
"Yes," said Shere Ali with a smile, "I am among friends." "Now who would you say was going to win this fight ?" continued the jockey, cocking his head with an air of shrewdness, which said as plainly as words, "You are the one to tell if you will only say." Shere Ali expanded.

Deference and flattery, however gross, so long as they came from white people were balm to his wounded vanity.