Cynthia. Now don't say that! You'll make me cry more.
She wipes her eyes. John takes out the wedding ring from his pocket; he lifts a wine-glass, drops the ring into it and offers her the glass.
John. Cynthia!
Cynthia. [Looking at it and wiping her eyes.] What is it?
John. Benedictine!
Cynthia. Why, you know I never take it.
John. Take this one for my sake.
Cynthia. That's not benedictine. [With gentle curiosity.] What is it?
John. [Slides the ring out of the glass and puts his arm about Cynthia. He slips the ring on to her finger and, as he kisses her hand, says:] Your wedding ring!
Curtain.