CLEM. I take it we're agreed. Aren't we? On the estate. MARG. Oh, of course, later. Aren't we going to take in the Riviera, as a preliminary tidbit? CLEM. AS for that, it all depends on the Handicap. If we win-- MARG. Surest thing! CLEM. And besides, in April the Riviera's not at all good _ton_. MARG. Is that your reason? CLEM. Of course it is, my love. In your former way of life, there were so few opportunities for your getting a clear idea of fashion--Pardon me, but whatever there was, you must admit, really had its origin in the comic journals. MARG. Clem, please! CLEM. Well, well. We'll see. [_Continues reading._] Badegast fifteen to one-- MARG. Badegast? There isn't a ghost of a show for him! CLEM. Where did you get that information? MARG. Szigrati himself gave me a tip. CLEM. Where--and when? MARG. Oh, this morning in the Fredenau, while you were talking with Milner. CLEM. Now, look here; Szigrati isn't fit company for you. MARG. Jealous? CLEM. Not at all. Moreover, let it be understood that from now on I shall introduce you everywhere as my fiancée. [_Margaret kisses him._] CLEM. Now, what did Szigrati say? MARG. That he's not going to enter Badegast in the Handicap at all. CLEM. Well, don't you believe everything Szigrati is likely to say. He's circulating the rumor that Badegast will not be entered so that the odds may be bigger. MARG. Nonsense! That's too much like an investment. CLEM. So you don't believe there is such a thing as investment in this game? For a great many it's all a commercial enterprise. Do you think that a fellow of Szigrati's ilk cares a fig for sport? He might just as well speculate on the market, and wouldn't realize the difference. Anyway, as far as Badegast is concerned, one hundred to one wouldn't be too much to put up against him. MARG. Really? I found him in first-rate fettle this morning. CLEM. Then you saw Badegast, too? MARG. Certainly. Didn't Butters put him through his paces, right behind Busserl? CLEM. But Butters isn't riding for Szigrati. He was only a stableboy. Badegast can be in as fine fettle as he chooses--it's all the same to me. He's nothing but a blind. Some day, Margaret, with the aid of your exceptional talent, you will be able to distinguish the veritable somebodies from the shams. Really, it's remarkable with what proficiency you have, so to speak, insinuated yourself into all these things. You go beyond my expectations. MARG. [_chagrined_]. Pray, why do I go beyond your expectations? All this, as you know, is not so new to me. At our house we entertained very good people--Count Libowski and people of that sort--and at my husband's-- CLEM. Quite so. No question about that. As a matter of principle, you realize, I've no grudge against the cotton industry.