Scene, a decently but not richly furnished room, belonging to MARGARET. Table, small writing-desk, chairs, a cupboard, two windows up stage, doors right and left. At rise of curtain, CLEMENT is discovered leaning against mantelpiece, in a very elegant dark gray morning suit, smoking a cigarette and reading a newspaper. MARGARET stands by window, then walks up and down, finally comes behind CLEMENT and runs her hands through his hair. She seems rather restless. CLEMENT goes on reading, then seizes her hand and kisses it. CLEMENT. Horner is sure of his game--or rather my game. Waterloo five to one, Barometer twenty to one, Busserl seven to one, Attila sixteen to one. MARGARET. Sixteen to one! CLEMENT. Lord Byron six to four--that's us, darling! MARGARET. I know. CLEMENT. Besides, it's still six weeks to the race. MARGARET. Apparently he thinks it's a dead certainty. CLEMENT. The way she knows all the terms ...! MARGARET. I've known these terms longer than I have you. And is it quite settled that you'll ride Lord Byron yourself? CLEMENT. How can you ask? The Ladies' Plate! Whom else should I put up? If Horner didn't know I was going to ride him myself, he wouldn't be standing at six to four, you may be sure of that. MARGARET. I believe you. You're so handsome on horseback--simply fit to take one's breath away! I shall never forget how you looked at Munich, the day I got to know you ... CLEMENT. Don't remind me of it! I had awful luck that day. Windisch would never have won the race if he hadn't got ten lengths start. But this time--ah ...! And the next day we go away. MARGARET. In the evening. CLEMENT. Yes ... But why? MARGARET. Because in the morning we shall be getting married, I suppose. CLEMENT. Yes, yes, darling. MARGARET. I'm so happy! (Embraces him.) And where shall we go? CLEMENT. I thought we'd agreed about that--to my place in the country. MARGARET. Yes, later. But can't we have a little while on the Riviera first? CLEMENT. That'll depend on the Ladies' Plate; if I win it ... MARGARET. Dead certainty! CLEMENT. And anyhow, in April the Riviera really isn't the thing any more. MARGARET. Oh, that's it, is it? CLEMENT. Of course that's it, child. You've retained from your old life certain conceptions of what's the thing which are--you'll forgive me for saying it--just a little like those of the comic papers. MARGARET. Really, Clement ... CLEMENT. Oh well, we'll see. (Goes on reading.) Badegast fifteen to one ... MARGARET. Badegast? He won't be in it. CLEMENT. How do you know that? MARGARET. Szigrati himself told me. CLEMENT. How was that? Where? MARGARET. Why, yesterday up at the Freudenau, while you were talking to Milner. CLEMENT. To my way of thinking, Szigrati isn't the right sort of company for you. MARGARET. Jealous? CLEMENT. Nonsense! Anyhow, after this I shall introduce you everywhere as my fiancee. (She kisses him.) Well, what did Szigrati tell you?