Sir Wilfrid. [To Vida.] Be a good girl now—run me off somewhere!
Vida. [To Benson.] Show Sir Wilfrid the men's room.
[Brooks comes in.
Sir Wilfrid. The men's room! Ah! Oh! Eh!
Vida. [Beckoning him to go at once.] Sir Wil— [He hesitates; then as Brooks advances, he flings off with Benson.
Brooks. Lady Karslake, milady!
Vida. Anything more inopportune! I never dreamed she'd come— [Cynthia comes in veiled. As she walks quickly into the room, Vida greets her languorously.] My dear Cynthia, you don't mean to say—
Cynthia. [Rather short, and visibly agitated.] Yes, I've come.
Vida. [Polite, but not urgent.] Do take off your veil.
Cynthia. [Complying.] Is no one here?