Sir Wilfrid. How do, my boy. [Half aside, to John.] No idea you had such a charming little wife—What?—Eh? [Karslake moves to speak to Matthew and Philip in the further room.
Cynthia. You'll have a cup of tea, Sir Wilfrid?
Sir Wilfrid. [At the table.] Thanks, awfully. [Very cheerfully.] I'd no idea old John had a wife! The rascal never told me!
Cynthia. [Pouring tea and facing the facts.] I'm not Mr. Karslake's wife!
Sir Wilfrid. Oh!—Eh?—I see—
[He is evidently trying to think this out.
Vida. [Who has been ready for some time to speak to him.] Sir Wilfrid, I'm sure no one has asked you how you like our country?
Sir Wilfrid. [Going to Vida and standing by her at the sofa.] Oh, well, as to climate and horses, I say nothing. But I like your American humour. I'm acquiring it for home purposes.
Vida. [Getting down to love as the basis of conversation.] Aren't you going to acquire an American girl for home purposes?
Sir Wilfrid. The more narrowly I look the agreeable project in the face, the more I like it. Oughtn't to say that in the presence of your husband. [He casts a look at Philip, who has gone into the next room.