SIR WILFRID. I am! [_He makes a second effort to catch her fingers._ VIDA. Will you kindly go further away and be good! SIR WILFRID. [_Quite forgetting_ CYNTHIA.] Look here, if you say yes, we'll be married-- VIDA. In a month! SIR WILFRID. Oh, no--this evening! VIDA. [_Incapable of leaving a situation unadorned._] This evening! And sail in the same boat with _you_? And shall we sail to the Garden of Eden and stroll into it and lock the gate on the inside and then lose the key--under a rose-bush? SIR WILFRID. [_After a pause and some consideration._] Yes; yes, I say--that's too clever for me! [_He draws nearer to her to bring the understanding to a crisis._ VIDA. [_Interrupted by a soft knock._] My maid--come! SIR WILFRID. [_Swinging out of his chair and moving to the sofa._] Eh? BENSON. [_Coming in and approaching_ VIDA.] The new footman, ma'am--he's made a mistake. He's told the lady you're at home. VIDA. What lady? BENSON. Mrs. Karslake; and she's on the stairs, ma'am. VIDA. Show her in. SIR WILFRID _has been turning over the roses. On hearing this, he faces about with a long stemmed one in his hand. He subsequently uses it to point his remarks._ SIR WILFRID. [_To_ BENSON, _who stops._] One moment! [_To_ VIDA.] I say, eh--I'd rather not see her! VIDA. [_Very innocently._] But you came here to see her. SIR WILFRID. [_A little flustered._] I'd rather not. Eh,--I fancied I'd find you and her together--but her-- [_Coming a step nearer._] findin' me with you looks so dooced intimate,--no one else, d'ye see, I believe she'd--draw conclusions-- BENSON. Pardon me, ma'am--but I hear Brooks coming! SIR WILFRID. [_To_ BENSON.] Hold the door! VIDA. So you don't want her to know--? SIR WILFRID. [_To_ VIDA.] Be a good girl now--run me off somewhere! VIDA. [_To_ BENSON.] Show Sir Wilfrid the men's room. [BROOKS _comes in._ SIR WILFRID. The men's room! Ah! Oh! Eh! VIDA. [_Beckoning him to go at once._] Sir Wil-- [_He hesitates; then as_ BROOKS _advances, he flings off with_ BENSON. BROOKS. Lady Karslake, milady! VIDA. Anything more inopportune! I never dreamed she'd come-- [CYNTHIA _comes in veiled. As she walks quickly into the room_, VIDA _greets her languorously._] My dear Cynthia, you don't mean to say-- CYNTHIA. [_Rather short, and visibly agitated._] Yes, I've come. VIDA. [_Polite, but not urgent._] Do take off your veil. CYNTHIA. [_Complying._] Is no one here? VIDA. [_As before._] Won't you sit down? CYNTHIA. [_Agitated and suspicious._] Thanks, no--That is, yes, thanks. Yes! You haven't answered my question? [CYNTHIA _waves her hand through the haze; glances suspiciously at the smoke, and looks about for the cigarette._ VIDA. [_Playing innocence in the first degree._] My dear, what makes you imagine that any one's here! CYNTHIA. You've been smoking. VIDA. Oh, puffing away! [CYNTHIA _sees the glasses._