Sir Wilfrid. Well, I don't offer myself—
Cynthia. Oh!
Sir Wilfrid. Not this instant—
Cynthia. Ah!
Sir Wilfrid. But let me drop in to-morrow at ten.
Cynthia. What country and state of affairs do you think you have landed in?
Sir Wilfrid. New York, by Jove! Been to school, too. New York is bounded on the North, South, East and West by the state of Divorce! Come, come, Mrs. Karslake, I like your country. You've no fear and no respect—no cant and lots of can. Here you all are, you see—your former husband, and your new husband's former wife—sounds like Ollendoff! Eh? So there you are, you see! But, jokin' apart—why do you marry him? Oh, well, marry him if you must! You can run around the corner and get a divorce afterwards—
Cynthia. I believe you think they throw one in with an ice-cream soda!
Sir Wilfrid. [Rising.] Damme, my dear lady, a marriage in your country is no more than a—eh—eh—what do you call 'em? A thank you, ma'am. That's what an American marriage is—a thank you, ma'am. Bump—bump—you're over it and on to the next.
Cynthia. You're an odd fish! What? I believe I like you!