John. Come along, come along, never mind them! A horse is a horse!
John and Vida go out gaily and in haste. At the same moment Cynthia drinks what she supposes to be her glass of plain soda. As it is whiskey straight, she is seized with astonishment and a fit of coughing. Sir Wilfrid relieves her of the glass.
Sir Wilfrid. [Indicating the contents of the glass.] I say, do you ordinarily take it as high up—as seven fingers and two thumbs.
Cynthia. [Coughing.] Jack poured it out. Just shows how groggy he was! And now, Sir Wilfrid—
[She gets her things to go.
Sir Wilfrid. Oh, you can't go!
[Brooks appears at the door.
Cynthia. I am to be married at three.
Sir Wilfrid. Let him wait. [Aside to Brooks, whom he meets near the door.] If Mr. Phillimore comes, bring his card up.
Brooks. [Going.] Yes, Sir Wilfrid.