Thomas. A card for you, sir. Ahem—ahem—Mrs. Phillimore—that was, sir.
Philip. Eh?
Thomas. She's on the stairs, sir. [He nods backward, only to find Vida at his side. He announces her as being the best way of meeting the difficulty.] Mrs. Vida Phillimore!
Vida comes in slowly, with the air of a spoiled beauty. She stops just inside the door and speaks in a very casual manner. Her voice is languorous and caressing. She is dressed in the excess of the French fashion and carries a daring parasol. She smiles and comes in, undulating, to the middle of the room. Tableau. Thomas withdraws.
Vida. How do you do, Philip. [After a pause.] Don't tell me I'm a surprise! I had you called up on the 'phone and I sent up my card—and, besides, Philip dear, when you have the—the—habit of the house, as unfortunately I have, you can't treat yourself like a stranger in a strange land. At least, I can't—so here I am. My reason for coming was to ask you about that B. & O. stock we hold in common. [To Matthew, condescendingly, the clergy being a class of unfortunates debarred by profession from the pleasures of the world.] How do you do? [Pause. She then goes to the real reason of her visit.] Do be polite and present me to your wife-to-be.
Philip. [Awkwardly.] Cynthia—
Cynthia. [Cheerfully, with dash, putting the table between Vida and herself.] We're delighted to see you, Mrs. Phillimore. I needn't ask you to make yourself at home, but will you have a cup of tea? [Matthew sits near the little table.
Vida. [To Philip.] My dear, she's not in the least what I expected. I heard she was a dove! She's a very dashing kind of a dove! [To Cynthia, who moves to the tea-table.] My dear, I'm paying you compliments. Five lumps and quantities of cream. I find single life very thinning. [To Philip, calm and ready to be agreeable to any man.] And how well you're looking! It must be the absence of matrimonial cares—or is it a new angel in the house?
Cynthia. [Outraged at Vida's intrusion, but polite though delicately sarcastic.] It's most amusing to sit in your place. And how at home you must feel here in this house where you have made so much trouble—I mean tea. [Rises.] Do you know it would be in much better taste if you would take the place you're accustomed to?
Vida. [As calm as before.] My dear, I'm an intruder only for a moment; I sha'n't give you a chance to score off me again! But I must thank you, dear Philip, for rendering that decision in my favour—