John. I'm backing Carmencita.
Cynthia. [With a gesture of despair.] Carmencita! Carmencita!
[Matthew returns to Vida's side.
John. You may remember we always differed on Carmencita.
Cynthia. [Disgusted at John's dunderheadedness.] But there's no room for difference. She's a wild, headstrong, dissatisfied, foolish little filly. The deuce couldn't ride her—she'd shy at her own shadow—"Carmencita." Oh, very well then, I'll wager you—and I'll give you odds too—"Decorum" will come in first, and I'll lay three to one he'll beat Carmencita by five lengths! How's that for fair?
John. [Never forgetting the situation.] Sorry I'm not flush enough to take you.
Cynthia. [Impetuously.] Philip, dear, you lend John enough for the wager.
Matthew. [As nearly horrified as so soft a soul can be.] Ahem! Really—
John. It's a sporty idea, Mrs. Karslake, but perhaps in the circumstances—
Cynthia. [Her mind on her wager.] In what circumstances?