Vida. What lady?
Benson. Mrs. Karslake; and she's on the stairs, ma'am.
Vida. Show her in.
Sir Wilfrid has been turning over the roses. On hearing this, he faces about with a long stemmed one in his hand. He subsequently uses it to point his remarks.
Sir Wilfrid. [To Benson, who stops.] One moment! [To Vida.] I say, eh—I'd rather not see her!
Vida. [Very innocently.] But you came here to see her.
Sir Wilfrid. [A little flustered.] I'd rather not. Eh,—I fancied I'd find you and her together—but her— [Coming a step nearer.] findin' me with you looks so dooced intimate,—no one else, d'ye see, I believe she'd—draw conclusions—
Benson. Pardon me, ma'am—but I hear Brooks coming!
Sir Wilfrid. [To Benson.] Hold the door!
Vida. So you don't want her to know—?