Georgiana.
I’m not. George Tidd’s a man, every inch of her! [Sir Tristram rushes in breathlessly. Georgiana rushes at him and clutches his coat.] Tris Mardon, speak!
Sir Tristram.
[Exhausted.] Oh!
Georgiana.
The horse? The horse! You’ve got him out?
Sir Tristram.
Yes, safe and sound.
Georgiana.
Safe and sound! That old horse has backed himself to win the handicap.