Thomas. It's out, ma'am—yes, sir.
Philip. You're excessively noisy, Thomas!
Thomas. [In a fluster.] Yes, sir—I am.
Cynthia. [Soothing Thomas's wounded feelings.] We don't need you, Thomas.
Thomas. Yes, ma'am.
Philip. Puffing and blowing and shaking and quaking like an automobile in an ecstasy! [Thomas meekly withdraws.
Cynthia. [Not unsympathetically.] Too bad, Philip! I hope my presence isn't too agitating?
Philip. Ah—it's just because I value this hour with you, Cynthia—this hour of tea and toast and tranquillity. It's quite as if we were married—happily married—already.
Cynthia. [Admitting that married life is a blank, begins to look through paper.] Yes, I feel as if we were married already.
Philip. [Not recognizing her tone.] Ah! It's the calm, you see.