Cynthia. [Going over the ground she has often argued with herself.] I meant to; but a divorcée has no place in society. I felt horridly lonely! I wanted a friend. Philip was ideal as a friend—for months. Isn't it nice to bind a friend to you?
Matthew. [Setting down his teacup.] Yes—yes!
Cynthia. [Growing more and more excited and moved as she speaks.] To marry a friend—to marry on prudent, sensible grounds—a man—like Philip? That's what I should have done first, instead of rushing into marriage—because I had a wild, mad, sensitive, sympathetic—passion and pain and fury—of, I don't know what—that almost strangled me with happiness!
Matthew. [Amiable and reminiscent.] Ah—ah—in my youth—I,—I too!
Cynthia. [Coming back to her manner of every day.] And besides—the day Philip asked me I was in the dumps! And now—how about marrying only for love? [Philip comes back.
Matthew. Ah, my dear, love is not the only thing in the world!
Philip. [Half aside.] I got there too late, she'd hung up.
Cynthia. Who, Philip?
Philip. Eh—a lady—eh—
[Thomas, flurried, comes in with a card on a salver.