John. [Calm and triumphant.] That's my diagnosis.
Cynthia. [Slowly and gathering herself together.] I don't think I understand.
John. Oh, yes, you do; yes, you do.
Cynthia. [With blazing eyes.] What do you mean?
John. Would you mind not breaking my crop! Thank you! I mean [With polite impertinence.] that ours was a case of premature divorce, and, ahem, you're in love with me still.
He pauses. Cynthia has one moment of fury, then she realizes at what a disadvantage this places her. She makes an immense effort, recovers her calm, thinks hard for a moment more, and then, has suddenly an inspiration.
Cynthia. Jack, some day you'll get the blind staggers from conceit. No, I'm not in love with you, Mr. Karslake, but I shouldn't be at all surprised if she were. She's just your sort, you know. She's a man-eating shark, and you'll be a toothsome mouthful. Oh, come now, Jack, what a silly you are! Oh, yes, you are, to get off a joke like that; me—in love with—
[She looks at him.
John. Why are you here? [She laughs and begins to play her game.] Why are you here?
Cynthia. Guess! [She laughs.