Vida. [To Cynthia, most gently, and seeing there's nothing to be gained of John.] Oh, pray feel at home, Cynthia, dear! [Stopping by the door to her bedroom; to John.] When I've a nice street frock on, I'll ask you to present me to Cynthia K. [Vida opens the door and goes out. Cynthia and John involuntarily exchange glances.
Cynthia. [Agitated and frank.] Of course, I told you yesterday I was coming here.
John. [Irritated.] And I was to deny myself the privilege of being here?
Cynthia. [Curt and agitated.] Yes.
John. [Ready to fight.] And you guessed I would do that?
Cynthia. No.
John. What?
Cynthia. [Speaks with agitation, frankness and good will.] Jack—I mean, Mr. Karslake,—no, I mean, Jack! I came because—well, you see, it's my wedding day!—and—and—I—I—was rude to you last evening. I'd like to apologize and make peace with you before I go—
John. [Determined to be disagreeable.] Before you go to your last, long home!
Cynthia. I came to apologize.