Cynthia. [After a pause.] Bankrupt? [Excited and moved.] Let's not speak of him. I mean never to see him or think about him or even hear of him! [He assents. She reads her paper. He sips his tea and reads his paper. She turns a page, starts and cries out.
Philip. God bless me!
Cynthia. It's a picture of—of—
Philip. John Karslake?
Cynthia. Picture of him, and one of me, and in the middle between us "Cynthia K!"
Philip. "Cynthia K!"
Cynthia. [Excited.] My pet riding mare! The best horse he has! She's an angel even in a photograph! Oh! [Reading.] "John Karslake drops a fortune at Saratoga." [Rises and walks up and down excitedly. Philip takes the paper and reads.
Philip. [Unconcerned, as the matter hardly touches him.] Hem—ah—Advertises country place for sale—stables, famous mare "Cynthia K"—favourite riding-mare of former Mrs. Karslake, who is once again to enter the arena of matrimony with the well-known and highly respected judge of—
Cynthia. [Sensitive and much disturbed.] Don't! Don't, Philip, please don't!
Philip. My dear Cynthia—take another paper—here's my Post! You'll find nothing disagreeable in The Post.