John. Good-night!
Vida. I feel quite ill. [Seeing that she must play her last card to keep him, pretends to faintness; sways and falls into his arms.] Oh!
John. [In a rage, but beaten.] I believe you're putting up a fake.
The organ swells as Cynthia enters sweepingly, dressed in full evening dress for the wedding ceremony. John, not knowing what to do, keeps his arms about Vida as a horrid necessity.
Cynthia. [Speaking as she comes in, to Matthew.] Here I am. Ridiculous to make it a conventional thing, you know. Come in on the swell of the music, and all that, just as if I'd never been married before. Where's Philip? [She looks for Philip and sees John with Vida in his arms. She stops short.
John. [Uneasy and embarrassed.] A glass of water! I beg your pardon, Mrs. Karslake— [The organ plays on.
Cynthia. [Ironical and calm.] Vida!
John. She has fainted.
Cynthia. [Cynically.] Fainted? [Without pausing.] Dear, dear, dear, terrible! So she has. [Sir Wilfrid takes the flowers from a vase and prepares to sprinkle Vida's forehead with the water it contains.] No, no, not her forehead, Sir Wilfrid, her frock! Sprinkle her best Paquin! If it's a real faint, she will not come to!
Vida. [Coming quickly to her senses as her Paris importation is about to suffer.] I almost fainted.