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s we'll be at Belmont Park. CYNTHIA. [_Her sporting blood fired._] Belmont Park! SIR WILFRID. We'll do the races, and dine at Martin's-- CYNTHIA. [_Tempted._] Oh, if I only could! I can't! I've got to be married! You're awfully nice; I've almost got a "w'im" for you already. SIR WILFRID. [_Delighted._] There you are! I'll send a telegram! [_She shakes her head. He sits and writes at the table._ CYNTHIA. No, no, no! SIR WILFRID. [_Reading what he has written._] "Off with Cates-Darby to Races. Please postpone ceremony till seven-thirty." CYNTHIA. Oh, no, it's impossible! SIR WILFRID. [_Accustomed to have things go his way._] No more than breathin'! You can't get a w'im for me, you know, unless we're together, so together we'll be! [JOHN KARSLAKE _opens the door, and, unnoticed, walks into the room._] And to-morrow you'll wake up with a jolly little w'im--, [_Reading._] "Postpone ceremony till seven-thirty." There. [_He puts on her cloak and turning, sees_ JOHN.] Hello! JOHN. [_Surly._] Hello! Sorry to disturb you. SIR WILFRID. [_Cheerful as possible._] Just the man! [_Giving him the telegraph form._] Just step round and send it, my boy. Thanks! [JOHN _reads it._ CYNTHIA. No, no, I can't go! SIR WILFRID. Cockety-coo-coo-can't. I say, you must! CYNTHIA. [_Positively._] _No!_ JOHN. [_Astounded._] Do you mean you're going-- SIR WILFRID. [_Very gay._] Off to the races, my boy! JOHN. [_Angry and outraged._] Mrs. Karslake can't go with you there! CYNTHIA _starts, amazed at his assumption of marital authority, and delighted that she will have an opportunity of outraging his sensibilities._ SIR WILFRID. Oho! JOHN. An hour before her wedding! SIR WILFRID. [_Gay and not angry._] May I know if it's the custom-- JOHN. [_Jealous and disgusted._] It's worse than eloping-- SIR WILFRID. Custom, y' know, for the husband, that was, to dictate-- JOHN. [_Thoroughly vexed._] By George, there's a limit! CYNTHIA. What? What? What? [_Gathering up her things._] What did I hear you say? SIR WILFRID. Ah! JOHN. [_Angry._] I say there's a limit-- CYNTHIA. [_More and more determined to arouse and excite_ JOHN.] Oh, there's a limit, is there? JOHN. There is! I bar the way! It means reputation--it means-- CYNTHIA. [_Enjoying her opportunity._] We shall see what it means! SIR WILFRID. Aha! JOHN. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] I'm here to protect your reputation-- SIR WILFRID. [_To_ CY
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