Thomas goes out. The prospect of an Englishman with a handle to his name changes Vida's plans and, instead of leaving the house, she goes to sofa, and poses there.
John. He's a good fellow, Judge. Place near Epsom. Breeder. Over here to take a shy at our races.
Thomas. [Opening the door and announcing.] Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby.
Enter Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby. He is a high-bred, sporting Englishman. His manner, his dress and his diction are the perfection of English elegance. His movements are quick and graceful. He talks lightly and with ease. He is full of life and unsmiling good temper.
Philip. [To Sir Wilfrid and referring to the letter of introduction in his hand.] I am Mr. Phillimore. I am grateful to Stanhope for giving me the opportunity of knowing you, Sir Wilfrid. I fear you find it warm?
Sir Wilfrid. [Delicately mopping his forehead.] Ah, well—ah—warm, no—hot, yes! Deuced extraordinary climate yours, you know, Mr. Phillimore.
Philip. [Conventionally.] Permit me to present you to— [The unconventional situation pulls him up short. It takes him a moment to decide how to meet it. He makes up his mind to pretend that everything is as usual, and presents Cynthia first.] Mrs. Karslake.
[Sir Wilfrid bows, surprised and doubtful.
Cynthia. How do you do?
Philip. And to Mrs. Phillimore. [Vida bows nonchalantly, but with a view to catching Sir Wilfrid's attention. Sir Wilfrid bows, and looks from her to Philip.] My brother—and Mr. Karslake you know.