m, exclaims
and turns._ SIR WILFRID _turns._

CYNTHIA. Do they?

SIR WILFRID. Oh, rather. That's what's giving your heiresses such a
bad name lately. If a fellah's in debt he can't pick and choose, and
then he swears that American gals are awfully fine lookers, but
they're no good when it comes to continuin' the race! Fair dolls in
the drawin'-room, but no good in the nursery.

CYNTHIA. [_Thinking of_ JOHN _and_ VIDA _and nothing else._] I can see
Vida in the nursery.

SIR WILFRID. You understand when you want a brood mare, you don't
choose a Kentucky mule.

CYNTHIA. I think I see one.

SIR WILFRID. Well, that's what they're saying over there. They say
your gals run to talk [_He plainly remembers_ VIDA'S _volubility._]
and I have seen gals here that would chat life into a wooden Indian!
That's what you Americans call being clever.--All brains and no
stuffin'! In fact, some of your American gals are the nicest boys I
ever met.

CYNTHIA. So that's what you think?

SIR WILFRID. Not a bit what _I_ think--what my countrymen think!

CYNTHIA. Why are you telling me?

SIR WILFRID. Oh, just explaining my character. I'm the sort that can
pick and choose--and what I want is heart.

CYNTHIA. [VIDA _and_ JOHN _ever in mind._] No more heart than a
dragon-fly! [_The organ begins to play softly._

SIR WILFRID. That's it, dragon-fly. Cold as stone and never stops
buzzing about and showin' off her colours. It's that American
dragon-fly girl that I'm afraid of, because, d'ye see, I don't know
what an American expects when he marries; yes, but you're not
listening!

CYNTHIA. I am listening. I am!

SIR WILFRID. [_Speaking directly to her._] An Englishman, ye see, when
he marries expects three things: love, obedience, and five children.

CYNTHIA. Three things! I make it seven!

SIR WILFRID. Yes, my dear, but the point is, will you be mistress of
Traynham?

CYNTHIA. [_Who has only half listened to him._] No, Sir Wilfrid, thank
you, I won't. [_She turns to see_ JOHN _walk across the drawing-room
with_ VIDA, _and apparently absorbed in what she is saying._] It's
outrageous!

SIR WILFRID. Eh? Why you're cryin'?

CYNTHIA. [_Almost sobbing._] I am not.

SIR WILFRID. You're not crying because you're in love with me?

CYNTHIA. I'm not crying--or if I am, I'm crying because I love my
country. It's a disgrace to America--cast-off husbands and wives
getting together in a parlour and playing tag under a palm-tree.
[JOHN, _