Vida. And now do tell me all about her! [Putting in her last roses; she keeps one rosebud in her hand, of a size suitable for a man's buttonhole.
John. [As he drinks.] Oh, she's an adorable creature—delicate, high-bred, sweet-tempered—
Vida. [Showing her claws for a moment.] Sweet-tempered? Oh, you're describing the horse! By "her," I meant—
John. [Irritated by the remembrance of his wife.] Cynthia Karslake? I'd rather talk about the last Tornado.
[He drops moodily into a chair.
Vida. [With artful soothing.] There is only one thing I want to talk about, and that is, you! Why were you unhappy?
John. [Still cross.] Why does a dollar last such a short time?
Vida. [Curious.] Why did you part?
John. Did you ever see a schooner towed by a tug? Well, I parted from Cynthia for the same reason that the hawser parts from the tug—I couldn't stand the tug.
Vida. [Sympathizing.] Ah!