"He's going to compose a poem. How interesting!"
Spurr. (to himself). Yes, I'm all right if Voluptuary wins the Lincolnshire Handicap; lucky to get on at the price I did. When will the weights come out for the City and Suburban? Let's see whether the Pink 'Un has anything about it.
[He refers to the "Sporting Times."
Lady Maisie (to herself). The inspiration's stopped—what a pity! How odd of him to read the Globe! I thought he was a Democrat!
Lady Cant. Maisie, there's quite a clever little notice in Society Snippets about the dance at Skympings last week. I'm sure I wonder how they pick up these things; it quite bears out what I was told; says the supper arrangements were "simply disgraceful; no plovers' eggs, and not nearly enough champagne; and what there was, undrinkable!" So like poor dear Lady Chesepare; never does do things like anybody else. I'm sure I've given her hints enough!
Spurr. (to himself, with a suppressed grin). Wants to let me see she knows some swells. Now ain't that paltry?
Lady Cant. (tendering the paper). Would you like to see it, Maisie? Just this hit here; where my finger is.
Lady Maisie (to herself, flushing). I saw him smile. What must he think of us, with his splendid scorn for rank? (Aloud.) No, thank you, Mamma; such a wretched light to read by!
Spurr. (to himself). Chance for me to cut in! (Aloud.) Beastly light, isn't it? 'Pon my word, the company ought to provide us with a dog and string apiece when we get out!