Vida. [Encouraged, begins to play the game again.] You'll never love again!
John. [Speaking to her from the foot of the sofa.] Try me! Try me! Ah, no, Mrs. Phillimore, I shall laugh, live, love and make money again! And let me tell you one thing—I'm going to rap her one over the knuckles. She had a stick of a Connecticut lawyer, and he—well, to cut a legal story short, since Mrs. Karslake's been in Europe, I have been quietly testing the validity of the decree of divorce. Perhaps you don't understand?
Vida. [Displaying her innate shrewdness.] Oh, about a divorce, everything!
John. I shall hear by this evening whether the divorce will stand or not.
Vida. But it's to-day at three she marries—you won't let her commit bigamy?
John. [Shaking his head.] I don't suppose I'd go as far as that. It may be the divorce will hold, but anyway I hope never to see her again.
[He sits down beside her so that their faces are now directly opposite. Taking advantage of the close range, her eyes, without loss of time, open a direct fire.
Vida. Ah, my poor boy, she has broken your heart. [Believing that this is her psychological moment, she lays her hand on his arm, but draws it back as soon as he attempts to take it.] Now don't make love to me.
John. [Bold and amused, but never taken in.] Why not?
Vida. [With immense gentleness.] Because I like you too much! [More gaily.] I might give in, and take a notion to like you still more!