VIDA. [_Getting promptly to work._] H'm, h'm, I shall be caught. [_Rising._] The box of roses, Benson! [BENSON _brings the box of roses, uncovers the flowers and places them at_ VIDA'S _side._] My gloves--the clippers, and the vase! [_Each of these things_ BENSON _places in turn within_ VIDA'S _range where she sits on the sofa. She has the long box of roses at her side on a small table, a vase of water on the floor by her side. She cuts the stems and places the roses in the vase. When she feels that she has reached a picturesque position, in which any onlooker would see in her a creature filled with the love of flowers and of her fellow man, she says:_] There! [_The door opens and_ BROOKS _comes in;_ VIDA _nods to_ BENSON. BROOKS. [_Announcing stolidly._] Sir John Karslake. JOHN, _dressed in very nobby riding togs, comes in gaily and forcibly._ BENSON _withdraws as he enters, and is followed by_ BROOKS. VIDA, _from this moment on, is busied with her roses._ VIDA. [_Languorously, but with a faint suggestion of humour._] Is that really you, Sir John? JOHN. [_Lively and far from being impressed by_ VIDA.] I see now where we Americans are going to get our titles. Good-morning! You look as fresh as paint. [_He lays his gloves and riding crop on the table, and takes a chair._ VIDA. [_Facing the insinuation with gentle pain._] I hope you don't mean that? I never flattered myself for a moment you'd come. You're riding Cynthia K? JOHN. Fiddler's going to lead her round here in ten minutes! VIDA. Cigars and cigarettes! Scotch? [_Indicating a small table._ JOHN. Scotch! [_Goes up quickly to table and helps himself to Scotch and seltzer._ VIDA. And now _do_ tell me all about _her_! [_Putting in her last roses; she keeps one rosebud in her hand, of a size suitable for a man's buttonhole._ JOHN. [_As he drinks._] Oh, she's an adorable creature--delicate, high-bred, sweet-tempered-- VIDA. [_Showing her claws for a moment._] Sweet-tempered? Oh, you're describing the horse! By "her," I meant-- JOHN. [_Irritated by the remembrance of his wife._] Cynthia Karslake? I'd rather talk about the last Tornado. [_He drops moodily into a chair._ VIDA. [_With artful soothing._] There is only one thing I want to talk about, and that is, _you_! Why were you unhappy? JOHN. [_Still cross._] Why does a dollar last such a short time? VIDA. [_Curious._] Why did you part? JOHN. Did you ever see a schooner towed by a tug? Well, I parted from Cynthia for the same reason that the hawser parts from the tug--I couldn't stand the tug. VIDA. [_Sympathizing._] Ah! JOHN. [_After a pause, and still cross._] Awful cheerful morning chat. VIDA. [_Excusing her curiosity and coming back to love as the only subject for serious conversation._] I must hear the story, for I'm anxious to know why I've taken such a fancy to you! JOHN. [_Very nonchalantly._] Why do _I_ like you?