Georgiana.
Lord bless your heart, they’re all right when you cheer them up a bit! If I’m here till the autumn meeting you’ll find me lunching on the hill, with the Canons marking my card and the dear old Bishop mixing the salad. So say the word, Tris—I’ll make it all right with Augustin.
Sir Tristram.
No, thanks, old fellow. The fact is I’m fixed at the “Swan” with—what do you think, George?—with Dandy Dick.
Georgiana.
Oh! my old Dandy!
Sir Tristram.
I brought him down with me in lavender. You know he runs for the Durnstone Handicap to-morrow.
Georgiana.
Know! There’s precious little that horse does that I don’t know, and what I don’t know I dream. Is he fit?