IDA. [_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 loo