JOHN. It's just a figure of speech.

[He returns airily to his committee room; and now again you may hear
the click of MAGGIE's needles. They no longer annoy the COMTESSE; she
is setting them to music.]

COMTESSE. It is not down here she sits, Mrs. Shand, knitting a
stocking.

MAGGIE. No, it isn't.

COMTESSE. And when I came in I gave him credit for everything; even
for the prettiness of the room!

MAGGIE. He has beautiful taste.

COMTESSE. Good-bye, Scotchy.

MAGGIE. Good-bye, Comtesse, and thank you for coming.

COMTESSE. Good-bye--Miss Pin.

[MAGGIE rings genteelly.]

MAGGIE. Good-bye.

[The COMTESSE is now lost in admiration of her.]

COMTESSE. You divine little wife. He can't be worthy of it, no man
could be worthy of it. Why do you do it?