[The door opens.
Vida. [To John.] Run along! [John leaves and Vida, instantly practical, makes a broad gesture to Benson.] Everything just as it was, Benson! [Benson whisks the roses out of the vase and replaces them in the box. She gives Vida scissors and empty vases, and, when Vida finds herself in precisely the same position which preceded John's entrance, she says:] There!
[Brooks comes in as Vida takes a rose from basket.
Brooks. [With characteristic stolidness.] Your ladyship's dressmaker! M'lady! [Enter Sir Wilfrid in morning suit, boutonnière, &c.
Vida. [With tender surprise and busy with the roses.] Is that really you, Sir Wilfrid! I never flattered myself for an instant that you'd remember to come.
Sir Wilfrid. [Moving to the head of the sofa.] Come? 'Course I come! Keen to come see you. By Jove, you know, you look as pink and white as a huntin' mornin'.
Vida. [Ready to make any man as happy as possible.] You'll smoke?
Sir Wilfrid. Thanks! [He watches her as she trims and arranges the flowers.] Awfully long fingers you have! Wish I was a rose, or a ring, or a pair of shears! I say, d'you ever notice what a devil of a fellow I am for originality, what? [Unlike John, is evidently impressed by her.] You've got a delicate little den up here! Not so much low livin' and high thinkin', as low lights and no thinkin' at all, I hope—eh?
[By this time, Vida has filled a vase with roses and rises to sweep by him and, if possible, make another charming picture to his eyes.
Vida. [Gliding gracefully past him.] You don't mind my moving about?