PHILIP. I was obliged to decide in Mrs. Phillimore's favour. Haggerty's plea was preposterous. CYNTHIA. Did you--did you meet the--the--former--? PHILIP. No. CYNTHIA. I often see her at afternoon teas. PHILIP. How did you recognize-- CYNTHIA. Why-- [_Opening the paper._] because Mrs. Vida Phillimore's picture appears in every other issue of most of the evening papers. And I must confess I was curious. But, I'm sure you find it very painful to meet her again. PHILIP. [_Slowly, considering._] No,--would you find it so impossible to meet Mr.-- CYNTHIA. [_Much excited and aroused._] Philip! Don't speak of him. He's nothing. He's a thing of the past. I never think of him. I forget him! PHILIP. [_Somewhat sarcastic._] That's extraordinarily original of you to forget him. CYNTHIA. [_Gently, and wishing to drop the subject._] We each of us have something to forget, Philip--and John Karslake is to me--Well, he's dead! PHILIP. As a matter of fact, my dear, he _is_ dead, or the next thing to it--for he's bankrupt. CYNTHIA. [_After a pause._] Bankrupt? [_Excited and moved._] Let's not speak of him. I mean never to see him or think about him or even hear of him! [_He assents. She reads her paper. He sips his tea and reads his paper. She turns a page, starts and cries out._ PHILIP. God bless me! CYNTHIA. It's a picture of--of-- PHILIP. John Karslake? CYNTHIA. Picture of him, and one of me, and in the middle between us "Cynthia K!" PHILIP. "Cynthia K!" CYNTHIA. [_Excited._] My pet riding mare! The best horse he has! She's an angel even in a photograph! Oh! [_Reading._] "John Karslake drops a fortune at Saratoga." [_Rises and walks up and down excitedly._ PHILIP _takes the paper and reads._ PHILIP. [_Unconcerned, as the matter hardly touches him._] Hem--ah--Advertises country place for sale--stables, famous mare "Cynthia K"--favourite riding-mare of former Mrs. Karslake, who is once again to enter the arena of matrimony with the well-known and highly respected judge of-- CYNTHIA. [_Sensitive and much disturbed._] Don't! Don't, Philip, please don't! PHILIP. My dear Cynthia--take another paper--here's my _Post_! You'll find nothing disagreeable in _The Post_. [CYNTHIA _takes paper._ CYNTHIA. [_After reading, near the table._] It's much worse in _The Post_. "John Karslake sells the former Mrs. Karslake's jewels--the famous necklace now at Tiffany's, and the sporty ex-husband sells his wife's portrait by Sargent!" Philip, I can't stand this. [_Puts paper on the table._ PHILIP. Really, my dear, Mr. Karslake is bound to appear occasionally in print--or even you may have to meet him. [Thomas _comes in._ CYNTHIA. [_Determined and distressed._] I won't meet him! I won't meet him. Every time I hear his name or "Cynthia K's" I'm so depressed. THOMAS. [_Announcing with something like reluctance._] Sir, Mr. Fiddler. Mr. Karslake's trainer.