[_Covering his personal interest with amiable altruism._ JOHN. I'm backing Carmencita. CYNTHIA. [_With a gesture of despair._] Carmencita! Carmencita! [MATTHEW _returns to_ VIDA'S _side._ JOHN. You may remember we always differed on Carmencita. CYNTHIA. [_Disgusted at_ JOHN'S _dunderheadedness._] But there's no room for difference. She's a wild, headstrong, dissatisfied, foolish little filly. The deuce couldn't ride her--she'd shy at her own shadow--"Carmencita." Oh, very well then, I'll wager you--and I'll give you odds too--"Decorum" will come in first, and I'll lay three to one he'll beat Carmencita by five lengths! How's that for fair? JOHN. [_Never forgetting the situation._] Sorry I'm not flush enough to take you. CYNTHIA. [_Impetuously._] Philip, dear, you lend John enough for the wager. MATTHEW. [_As nearly horrified as so soft a soul can be._] Ahem! Really-- JOHN. It's a sporty idea, Mrs. Karslake, but perhaps in the circumstances-- CYNTHIA. [_Her mind on her wager._] In what circumstances? PHILIP. [_With a nervous laugh._] It does seem to me there is a certain impropriety-- CYNTHIA. [_Remembering the conventions, which, for a moment, had actually escaped her._] Oh, I forgot. When horses are in the air-- MATTHEW. [_Pouring oil on troubled waters. Moving, he speaks to_ VIDA _from the back of her armchair._] It's the fourth gospel, you see. [THOMAS _comes in with a letter on a salver, which he hands to_ PHILIP. CYNTHIA. [_Meekly._] You are quite right, Philip. [PHILIP _goes up._] The fact is, seeing Mr. Karslake again [_Laying on her indifference with a trowel._] he seems to me as much a stranger as if I were meeting him for the first time. MATTHEW. [_Aside to_ VIDA.] We are indeed taking tea on the slope of a volcano. VIDA. [_About to go, but thinking she will have a last word with_ JOHN.] I'm sorry your fortunes are so depressed, Mr. Karslake. PHILIP. [_Looking at the card that_ THOMAS _has just brought in._] Who in the world is Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby? [_There is a general stir._ JOHN. Oh--eh--Cates-Darby? [PHILIP _opens the letter which_ THOMAS _has brought with the card._] That's the English chap I bought Pantomime of. PHILIP. [_To_ THOMAS.] Show Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby in. THOMAS _goes out. The prospect of an Englishman with a handle to his name changes_ VIDA'S _plans and, instead of leaving the house, she goes to sofa, and poses there._ JOHN. He's a good fellow, Judge. Place near Epsom. Breeder. Over here to take a shy at our races. THOMAS. [_Opening the door and announcing._] Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby. _Enter_ SIR WILFRID CATES-DARBY. _He is a high-bred, sporting Englishman. His manner, his dress and his diction are the perfection of English elegance. His movements are quick and graceful. He talks lightly and with ease. He is full of life and unsmiling good temper._