R WILFRID. My word!

VIDA. [_Fully expecting personal flattery._] Eh?

SIR WILFRID. She's a box o' ginger!

VIDA. You haven't seen many American women!

SIR WILFRID. Oh, haven't I?

VIDA. If you'll pay me a visit to-morrow--at twelve, you shall meet a
most charming young woman, who has seen you once, and who admires
you--ah!

SIR WILFRID. I'm there--what!

VIDA. Seven hundred and seventy-one Fifth Avenue.

SIR WILFRID. Seven seventy-one Fifth Avenue--at twelve.

VIDA. At twelve.

SIR WILFRID. Thanks! [_Indicating_ CYNTHIA.] She's a thoroughbred--you
can see that with one eye shut. Twelve. [_Shaking hands._] Awfully
good of you to ask me. [_He joins_ JOHN.] I say, my boy, your former's
an absolute certainty. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] I hear you're about to marry
Mr. Phillimore, Mrs. Karslake?

KARSLAKE _crosses to_ VIDA _and together they move to the
sofa and sit down._

CYNTHIA. To-morrow, 3 P. M., Sir Wilfrid.

SIR WILFRID. [_Much taken with_ CYNTHIA.] Afraid I've run into a sort
of family party, eh? [_Indicating_ VIDA.] The Past and the
Future--awfully chic way you Americans have of asking your divorced
husbands and wives to drop in, you know--celebrate a christenin', or
the new bride, or--

CYNTHIA. Do you like your tea strong?

SIR WILFRID. Middlin'.

CYNTHIA. Sugar?

SIR WILFRID. One!

CYNTHIA. Lemon?

SIR WILFRID. Just torture a lemon over it. [_He makes a gesture as of
twisting a lemon peel. She hands him his tea._] Thanks! So you do it
to-morrow at three?

CYNTHIA. At three, Sir Wilfrid.

SIR WILFRID. Sorry!

CYNTHIA. Why are you sorry?

SIR WILFRID. Hate to see a pretty woman married. Might marry her
myself.

CYNTHIA. Oh, but I'm sure you don't admire American women.

SIR WILFRID. Admire you, Mrs. Karslake--

CYNTHIA. Not enough to marry me, I hope.

SIR WILFRID. Marry you in a minute! Say the word. Marry you now--here.

CYNTHIA. You don't think you ought to know me a little before--

SIR WILFRID. Know you? Do know you.

CYNTHIA. [_Covering her hair with her handkerchief._] What colour is
my hair?

SIR WILFRID. Pshaw!

CYNTHIA. You see! You don't know whether I'm a chestnut or a
strawberry roan! In the States we think a few months of friendship is
quite necessary.

SIR WILFRID. Few months of moonshine! Never was a friend to a
woman--thank God, in all my life.

CYNTHIA. Oh--oh, oh!

SIR WILFRID. Might as well talk about being a friend to a
whiskey-and-soda.

CY