CYNTHIA. Why are you telling me? SIR WILFRID. Oh, just explaining my character. I'm the sort that can pick and choose--and what I want is heart. CYNTHIA. [VIDA _and_ JOHN _ever in mind._] No more heart than a dragon-fly! [_The organ begins to play softly._ SIR WILFRID. That's it, dragon-fly. Cold as stone and never stops buzzing about and showin' off her colours. It's that American dragon-fly girl that I'm afraid of, because, d'ye see, I don't know what an American expects when he marries; yes, but you're not listening! CYNTHIA. I am listening. I am! SIR WILFRID. [_Speaking directly to her._] An Englishman, ye see, when he marries expects three things: love, obedience, and five children. CYNTHIA. Three things! I make it seven! SIR WILFRID. Yes, my dear, but the point is, will you be mistress of Traynham? CYNTHIA. [_Who has only half listened to him._] No, Sir Wilfrid, thank you, I won't. [_She turns to see_ JOHN _walk across the drawing-room with_ VIDA, _and apparently absorbed in what she is saying._] It's outrageous! SIR WILFRID. Eh? Why you're cryin'? CYNTHIA. [_Almost sobbing._] I am not. SIR WILFRID. You're not crying because you're in love with me? CYNTHIA. I'm not crying--or if I am, I'm crying because I love my country. It's a disgrace to America--cast-off husbands and wives getting together in a parlour and playing tag under a palm-tree. [JOHN, _with intention and determined to stab_ CYNTHIA, _kisses_ VIDA'S _hand._ SIR WILFRID. Eh! Oh! I'm damned! [_To_ CYNTHIA.] What do you think that means? CYNTHIA. I don't doubt it means a wedding here, at once--after mine! [VIDA _and_ JOHN _leave the drawing-room and walk slowly toward them._ VIDA. [_Affecting an impossible intimacy to wound_ CYNTHIA _and tantalize_ SIR WILFRID.] Hush, Jack--I'd much rather no one should know anything about it until it's all over! CYNTHIA. [_Starting and looking at_ SIR WILFRID.] What did I tell you? VIDA. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] Oh, my dear, he's asked me to champagne and lobster at _your_ house--his house! Matthew is coming! [CYNTHIA _starts, but controls herself._] And you're to come, Sir Wilfrid. [_Intending to convey the idea of a sudden marriage ceremony._] Of course, my dear, I would like to wait for your wedding, but something rather--rather important to me is to take place, and I know you'll excuse me. [_The organ stops._ SIR WILFRID. [_Piqued at being forgotten._] All very neat, but you haven't given me a chance, even. VIDA. Chance? You're not serious? SIR WILFRID. I am! VIDA. [_Striking while the iron is hot._] I'll give you a minute to offer yourself. SIR WILFRID. Eh? VIDA. Sixty seconds from now. SIR WILFRID. [_Uncertain._] There's such a thing as bein' silly. VIDA. [_Calm and determined._] Fifty seconds left. SIR WILFRID. I take you--count fair. [_He hands her his watch and goes to where_ CYNTHIA _stands._] I say, Mrs. Karslake--