CHAPTER XXXII
“You are very smart, Ernestine,” he said, looking her admiringly.
“One must be smart at Ascot,” she answered, “or stay away.”
“I've just heard some news,” he continued.
“Yes?”
“Who do you think is here?”
She glanced at him sideways under her lace parasol. “Every one I should think.”
“Including,” he said, “Mr. Scarlett Trent!” She grew a shade paler, and leaned for a moment against the rail of the paddock in which they were lounging.
“I thought,” she said, “that the Mazetta Castle was not due till to-day.”
“She touched at Plymouth in the night, and he had a special train up. He has some horses running, you know.”