Sir Wilfrid. [Frankly happy that he has explained everything so neatly.] I knew you'd take it that way!
Vida. And what next, pray?
Sir Wilfrid. Oh, just the usual,—eh,—thing,—the—eh—the same old question, don't you know. Will you have me if she don't?
Vida. [A shade piqued, but determined not to risk showing it.] And you call that the same old usual question?
Sir Wilfrid. Yes, I know, but—but will you? I sail in a week; we can take the same boat. And—eh—eh—my dear Mrs.—mayn't I say Vida, I'd like to see you at the head of my table.
Vida. [With velvet irony.] With Cynthia at the foot?
Sir Wilfrid. [Practical, as before.] Never mind Mrs. Karslake,—I admire her—she's—but you have your own points! And you're here, and so'm I!—damme I offer myself, and my affections, and I'm no icicle, my dear, tell you that for a fact, and,—and in fact what's your answer!— [Vida sighs and shakes her head.] Make it, yes! I say, you know, my dear Vida—
[He catches her hands.
Vida. [Drawing them from his.] Unhand me, dear villain! And sit further away from your second choice! What can I say? I'd rather have you for a lover than any man I know! You must be a lovely lover!
Sir Wilfrid. I am!