CYNTHIA. [_Twisting in the coils._] But you haven't had your dinner. PHILIP. Do I understand you refuse? CYNTHIA. Couldn't we defer--? PHILIP. You refuse? CYNTHIA. [_Desperately thinking of an escape from her promise, and finding none._] No, I said I'd marry you. I'm a woman of my word. I will. PHILIP. [_Triumphant._] Ah! Very good, then. Run to your room. [CYNTHIA _turns to_ PHILIP.] Throw something over you. In a half hour I'll expect you here! And Cynthia, my dear, remember! I cannot cuculate like a wood-pigeon, but--I esteem you! CYNTHIA. [_Hopelessly._] I think I'll go, Philip. PHILIP. I may not be fitted to play the love-bird, but-- CYNTHIA. [_Spiritlessly._] I think I'll go, Philip. PHILIP. I'll expect you,--in half an hour. CYNTHIA. [_With leaden despair._] Yes. PHILIP. And, Cynthia, don't think any more about that fellow, Cates-Darby. CYNTHIA. [_Amazed and disgusted by his misapprehension._] No. [_As_ CYNTHIA _leaves_, THOMAS _comes in from the opposite door._ PHILIP. [_Not seeing_ THOMAS, _and clumsily defiant._] And if I had that fellow, Cates-Darby, in the dock--! THOMAS. Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby. PHILIP. Sir what--what--wh-who? [SIR WILFRID _enters in evening dress._ PHILIP _looks_ SIR WILFRID _in the face and speaks to_ THOMAS.] Tell Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby I am not at home to him. [THOMAS _is embarrassed._ SIR WILFRID. [_Undaunted._] My dear Lord Eldon-- PHILIP. [_Again addressing_ THOMAS.] Show the gentleman the door. [_There is a pause._ SIR WILFRID, _with a significant gesture, glances at the door._ SIR WILFRID. [_Moving to the door, he examines it and returns to_ PHILIP.] Eh,--I admire the door, my boy! Fine, old carved mahogany panel; but don't ask me to leave by it, for Mrs. Karslake made me promise I'd come, and that's why I'm here. [THOMAS _does not wait for further orders._ PHILIP. Sir, you are--impudent--! SIR WILFRID. [_Interrupting._] Ah, you put it all in a nutshell, don't you? PHILIP. To show your face here, after practically eloping with my wife! SIR WILFRID. [_Affecting ignorance._] When were you married? PHILIP. We are as good as married. SIR WILFRID. Oh, pooh, pooh! You can't tell me that grace before soup is as good as a dinner! [_He takes out his cigar-case and, in the absence of a match, enjoys a smokeless smoke._ PHILIP. Sir--I--demand-- SIR WILFRID. [_Calmly carrying the situation._] Mrs. Karslake is _not_ married. _That's_ why I'm here. I am here for the same purpose _you_ are; to ask Mrs. Karslake to be my wife. PHILIP. Are you in your senses? SIR WILFRID. [_Pricking his American cousin's pet vanity._] Come, come, Judge--you Americans have no sense of humour. [_Taking a small jewel-case from his pocket._] There's my regards for the lady--and [_Reasonably._], if I must go, I will. Of course, I would like to see her, but--if it isn't your American custom-- THOMAS. [_Opens the door and announces._] Mr. Karslake. SIR WILFRID. Oh, well, I say; if he can come, I can!