SIR WILFRID _and_ JOHN _go out, arm in arm, preceded by_ VIDA. MATTHEW _crosses the room, smiling, as if pleased, in a Christian way, with this display of generous gaiety. He stops short suddenly and looks at his watch._ MATTHEW. Good gracious! I had no idea the hour was so late. I've been asked to a meeting with Maryland and Iowa, to talk over the divorce situation. [_He leaves the room quickly and his voice is heard in the hall._] Good-afternoon! Good-afternoon! CYNTHIA _is evidently much excited. The outer door slams._ PHILIP _comes down slowly._ CYNTHIA _stands, her eyes wide, her breathing visible, until_ PHILIP _speaks, when she seems suddenly to realize her position. There is a long pause._ PHILIP. [_With a superior air._] I have seldom witnessed a more amazing cataclysm of jocundity! Of course, my dear, this has all been most disagreeable for you. CYNTHIA. [_Excitedly._] Yes, yes, yes! PHILIP. I saw how much it shocked your delicacy. CYNTHIA. [_Distressed and moved._] Outrageous. [PHILIP _sits down._ PHILIP. Do be seated, Cynthia. [_Taking up the paper. Quietly._] Very odd sort of an Englishman--that Cates-Darby! CYNTHIA. Sir Wilfrid?--Oh, yes! [PHILIP _settles down to the paper. To herself._] Outrageous! I've a great mind to go at eleven--just as I said I would! PHILIP. Do sit down, Cynthia! CYNTHIA. What? What? PHILIP. You make me so nervous-- CYNTHIA. Sorry--sorry. [_She sits down and, seeing the paper, takes it, looking at the picture of_ JOHN KARSLAKE. PHILIP. [_Sighing with content._] Ah! now that I see him, I don't wonder you couldn't stand him. There's a kind of--ah--spontaneous inebriety about him. He is incomprehensible! If I might with reverence cross-question the Creator, I would say to him: "Sir, to what end or purpose did you create Mr. John Karslake?" I believe I should obtain no adequate answer! However, [_Sighs._] at last we have peace--and _The Post_! [PHILIP, _settling himself, reads his paper;_ CYNTHIA, _glancing at her paper, occasionally looks across at_ PHILIP.] Forget the dust of the arena--the prolixity of counsel--the involuntary fatuity of things in general. [_After a pause, he goes on with his reading._] Compose yourself! MISS HENEAGE, MRS. PHILLIMORE _and_ GRACE _come in._ CYNTHIA _sighs without letting her sigh be heard. She tries to compose herself. She glances at the paper and then, hearing_ MISS HENEAGE, _starts slightly._ MISS HENEAGE _and_ MRS. PHILLIMORE _stop at the table._ MISS HENEAGE. [_Carrying a sheet of paper._] There, my dear Mary, is the announcement as I have now reworded it. I took William's suggestion. [MRS. PHILLIMORE _takes and casually reads it._] I also put the case to him, and he was of the opinion that the announcement should be sent _only_ to those people who are really _in_ society. [_She sits near the table._ CYNTHIA _braces herself to bear the_ PHILLIMORE _conversation._