Philip. [Formally.] I regret that you have endured such reverses, Mr. Karslake. [John quietly bows.
Cynthia. [Concealing her interest and speaking casually.] You haven't mentioned your new English horse—Pantomime. What did he do at St. Louis?
John. [Sitting down.] Fell away and ran fifth.
Cynthia. Too bad. Was he fully acclimated? Ah, well—
John. We always differed—you remember—on the time needed—
Matthew. [Coming over to Cynthia, and speaking to carry off the situation as well as to get a tip.] Isn't there a—eh—a race to-morrow at Belmont Park?
John. Yes. I'm going down in my auto.
Cynthia. [Evidently wishing she might be going too.] Oh!
Matthew. And what animal shall you prefer?
[Covering his personal interest with amiable altruism.