Sir Wilfrid. [Much taken with Cynthia.] Afraid I've run into a sort of family party, eh? [Indicating Vida.] The Past and the Future—awfully chic way you Americans have of asking your divorced husbands and wives to drop in, you know—celebrate a christenin', or the new bride, or—
Cynthia. Do you like your tea strong?
Sir Wilfrid. Middlin'.
Cynthia. Sugar?
Sir Wilfrid. One!
Cynthia. Lemon?
Sir Wilfrid. Just torture a lemon over it. [He makes a gesture as of twisting a lemon peel. She hands him his tea.] Thanks! So you do it to-morrow at three?
Cynthia. At three, Sir Wilfrid.
Sir Wilfrid. Sorry!
Cynthia. Why are you sorry?