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<pre>

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Title: Belinda

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</pre>



<h1>Belinda</h1>
<h2>An April Folly in Three Acts</h2>

<p style="text-align: center; font-variant: small-caps">by</p>

<h2>A. A. Milne</h2>


<h1>Characters</h1>


<p>Produced by Mr. Dion Boucioault at the New Theatre, London, on April 8,
1918, with the following cast:&mdash;</p>

<blockquote><span class="char">Belinda Tremayne</span> .......... <i>Irene Vanbrugh</i>.<br />
<span class="char">Delia</span> (her Daughter) ...... <i>Isabel Elsom</i>.<br />
<span class="char">Harold Baxter</span> ............. <i>Dion Boucicault</i>.<br />
<span class="char">Claude Devenish</span> ........... <i>Dennis Neilson-Terry</i>.<br />
<span class="char">John Tremayne</span> ............. <i>Ben Webster</i>.<br />
<span class="char">Betty</span> ..................... <i>Anne Walden</i>.</blockquote>

<p>The action takes place in Belinda's country-house in Devonshire at the
end of April, the first act in the garden and the second and last acts
in the hall</p>


<p>[Illustration]</p>


<h1>Belinda</h1>


<h2>Act I</h2>

<p><i>It is a lovely April afternoon&ndash;a foretaste of summer&ndash;in</i>
<span class="char">Belinda's</span> <i>garden</i>.</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span>, <i>a middle-aged servant, is fastening a hammock&ndash;its first
appearance this year&ndash;to a tree down</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>In front there is a
garden-table, with a deck-chair on the right of it and a straight-backed
one to the left. There are books, papers, and magazines on the
table</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span>, <i>of whom we shall know more presently, is on the
other side of the open windows which look on to the garden, talking
to</i> <span class="char">Betty</span>, <i>who crosses to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of hammock, securing it to 
tree</i> <span class="stage">C.</span></p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>from inside the house</i>). Are you sure you're tying it up
tightly enough, Betty?</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span> (<i>coming to front of hammock</i>). Yes, ma'am; I think it's
firm.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Because I'm not the fairy I used to be.</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span> (<i>testing hammock</i>). Yes, ma'am; it's quite firm this end
too.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>entering from portico with sunshade open</i>). It's not the
ends I'm frightened of; it's the middle where the weight's coming.
(<i>Comes down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and admiring</i>.) It looks very nice. (<i>She crosses
at back of wicker table, hanging her hand-bag on hammock. Closes and
places her sunshade at back of tree</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>)</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, ma'am.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>trying the middle of it with her hand</i>). I asked them at
the Stores if they were quite <i>sure</i> it would bear me, and they
said it would take anything up to&ndash;I forget how many tons. I know I
thought it was rather rude of them. (<i>Looking at it anxiously, and
trying to get in, first with her right leg and then her left</i>.) How
does one get in! So trying to be a sailor!</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. I think you sit in it, ma'am, and then (<i>explaining with her
hands</i>) throw your legs over.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I see. (<i>She sits gingerly in the hammock, and then, with a
sudden flutter of white, does what</i> <span class="char">Betty</span> <i>suggests</i>.) Yes.
(<i>Regretfully</i>.) I'm afraid that was rather wasted on you, Betty.
We must have some spectators next time.</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yea, ma'am</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Cushions.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>moves to and takes a cushion from deck-chair</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span>
<i>assists her to place it at back of her head</i>. <span class="char">Betty</span> <i>then goes
to back of hammock and arranges</i> <span class="char">Belinda's</span> <i>dress</i>.)</p>

<p>There! Now then, Betty, about callers.</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, ma'am.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. If Mr. Baxter calls&ndash;he is the rather prim gentleman&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yea, ma'am; the one who's been here several times before.
(<i>Moves to below and</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of hammock</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>giving</i> <span class="char">Betty</span> <i>a quick look</i>). Yes. Well, if he
calls, you'll say, "Not at home."</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, ma'am.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. He will say (<i>imitating</i> <span class="char">Mr. Baxter</span>), "Oh&ndash;er&ndash;oh&ndash;er&ndash;really." Then you'll smile very sweetly and say, "I beg your pardon, was
it Mr. <i>Baxter</i>?" And he'll say, "Yes!" and you'll say, "Oh, I beg
your pardon, sir; <i>this</i> way, please."</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, ma'am.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. That's right, Betty. Well now, if Mr. Devenish calls&ndash;he is the
rather poetical gentleman&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, ma'am; the one who's <i>always</i> coming here.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with a pleased smile</i>). Yes. Well, if he calls you'll
say, "Not at home."</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, ma'am.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. He'll immediately (<i>extending her arms descriptively</i>)
throw down his bunch of flowers and dive despairingly into the moat.
You'll stop him, just as he is going in, and say, "I beg your pardon,
sir, was it Mr. <i>Devenish</i>?" And he will say, "Yes!" and you will
say, "Oh, I beg your pardon, sir; <i>this</i> way, please."</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, ma'am. And suppose they both call together?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>non-plussed for a moment</i>). We won't suppose anything so
exciting, Betty.</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. No, ma'am. And suppose any other gentleman calls?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with a sigh</i>). There aren't any other gentlemen.</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. It might be a clergyman, come to ask for a subscription like.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. If it's a clergyman, Betty, I shall&ndash;I shall want your
assistance out of the hammock first.</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, ma'am.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. That's all.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>crosses below table and chairs to porch</i>.)</p>

<p>To anybody else I'm not at home, (<i>Trying to secure book on table and
nearly falling out of the hammock</i>.) Oh, just give me that little
green book. (<i>Pointing to books on the table</i>.) The one at the
bottom there&ndash;that's the one. (<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>gives it to her</i>.) Thank you.
(<i>Reading the title</i>.) "The Lute of Love," by Claude Devenish.
(<i>To herself as she turns the pages</i>.) It doesn't seem much for
half-a-crown when you think of the <i>Daily Telegraph</i> .... Lute ...
Lute .... I should have quite a pretty mouth if I kept on saying that.
(<i>With a great deal of expression</i>.) Lute! (<i>She pats her mouth
back</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Is that all, ma'am?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. That's all. (<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>prepares to go</i>.) Oh, what am I
thinking of! (<i>Waving to the table</i>.) I want that review; I think
it's the blue one. (<i>As</i> <span class="char">Betty</span> <i>begins to look</i>.) It has an
article by Mr. Baxter on the "Rise of Lunacy in the Eastern Counties"&mdash;</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>gives her "The Nineteenth Century" Magazine</i>.)</p>

<p>&ndash;yes, that's the one. I'd better have that too; I'm just at the most
exciting place. You shall have it after <i>me</i>, Betty.</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Is that all, ma'am?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, that really is all.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>goes into the house</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>reading to herself very pronouncedly</i>). "It is a matter of
grave concern to all serious students of social problems&ndash;" (<i>Putting
the review down in hammock and shaking her head gently</i>.) But not in
April. (<i>Lazily opening the book and reading</i>.) "Tell me where is
love"&ndash;well, that's the question, isn't it? (<i>She lies back in the
hammock lazily and the book of poems falls from her to the ground</i>.
<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>comes into the garden, from Paris. She is decidedly a modern
girl, pretty and self-possessed. Her hair is half-way up; waiting for
her birthday, perhaps. She sees her mother suddenly, stops, and then
goes on tiptoe to the head of the hammock. She smiles and kisses her
mother on the forehead</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span>, <i>looking supremely unconscious,
goes on sleeping</i>. <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>kisses her lightly again</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> 
<i>wakes up with an extraordinarily natural start, and is just about to
say</i>, "Oh, Mr. Devenish&ndash;you mustn't!"&ndash;<i>when she sees</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.)
Delia! (<i>They kiss each other frantically</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Well, mummy, aren't you glad to see me?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. My darling child!</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Say you're glad.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>sitting up</i>). My darling, I'm absolutely&ndash;(<span class="char">Delia</span>
<i>crosses round to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of hammock</i>.) Hold the hammock while I
get out, dear; we don't want an accident. (<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>holds the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>
<i>end of it and</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>struggles out, leaving the magazine and
her handkerchief in the hammock</i>.) They're all right when you're
there, and they'll bear two tons, but they're horrid getting in and out
of. (<i>Kissing her again</i>.) Darling, it really <i>is</i> you?</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh, it is jolly seeing you again. I believe you were asleep.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with dignity</i>). Certainly not, child. I was reading
<i>The Nineteenth Century</i>&ndash;(<i>with an air</i>)&ndash;and after. (<i>Earnestly</i>) Darling,
wasn't it next Thursday you were coming back?</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. No, this Thursday, silly.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>penitently</i>). Oh, my darling, and I was going over to
Paris to bring you home.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. I half expected you.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. So confusing their both being called Thursday. And you were
leaving school for the very last time. If you don't forgive me, Delia, I
shall cry.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>kissing her and stroking her hand fondly</i>). Silly mother!</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>sits down in the deck-chair and</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>sits on the
table</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Isn't it a lovely day for April, darling! I've wanted to say
that to somebody all day, and you're the first person who's given me the
chance. Oh, I said it to Betty, but she only said, "Yes, ma'am."</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Poor mother!</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>jumping up suddenly, crossing to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of and
kissing</i>  <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>again</i>). I simply must have another one. And to
think that you're never going back to school any more. (<i>Looking at
her fondly, and backing to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>) Darling, you <i>are</i> looking
pretty.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Am I?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Lovely. (<i>She kisses her once more, then she takes the
cushion from the hammock, moves at back of table and places it on the
head of the deck-chair</i>.) And now you're going to stay with me for
just as long as you want a mother. (<i>Anxiously moving to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of
deckchair</i>.) Darling, you didn't mind being sent away to school, did
you? It <i>is</i> the usual thing, you know.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Silly mother! of course it is.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>relieved, and sitting on deck-chair</i>). I'm so glad you
think so too.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Have you been very lonely without me?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with a sly look at</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>). Very.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>turning to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and holding up a finger</i>). The
truth, mummy!</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I've missed you horribly, Delia. (<i>Primly</i>.) The absence
of female companionship of the requisite&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Are you really all alone?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>smiling mysteriously and coyly</i>). Well, not always, of
course.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>excitedly, at she slips off the table, and backing to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>
<i>a little</i>). Mummy, I believe you're being bad again.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Really, darling, you forget that I'm old enough to be&ndash;in fact,
am&ndash;your mother.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>nodding her head</i>). You are being bad.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>rising with dignity and drawing herself up to her full
height, moving</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>). My child, that is not the way to&ndash;Oh, I say,
what a lot taller I am than you! (<i>Turning her back to</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>
<i>and comparing sizes</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. And prettier.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>playfully rubbing noses with</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>). Oh, do you think
so? (<i>Firmly, but pleased</i>.) Don't be silly, child.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>holding up a finger</i>). Now tell me all that's been
happening  here at once.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with a sigh</i>). And I was just going to ask you how you
were getting on with your French. (<i>Sits in deck-chair</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Bother French! You've been having a much more interesting time
than I have, so you've got to tell.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with a happy sigh</i>). O-oh! (<i>She sinks back into her
chair</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>taking off her coat</i>). Is it like the Count at Scarborough?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>surprised and pained</i>). My darling, what do you mean?</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Don't you remember the Count who kept proposing to you at
Scarborough? I do. (<i>Places coat on hammock</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>reproachfully</i>). Dear one, you were the merest child,
paddling about on the beach and digging castles.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>smiling to herself</i>). I was old enough to notice the Count.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>sadly</i>). And I'd bought her a perfectly new spade! How
one deceives oneself!</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>at table and leaning across, with hands on table</i>). And
then there was the M.P. who proposed at Windermere.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, dear, but it wasn't seconded&ndash;I mean he never got very far
with it.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. And the artist in Wales.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Darling child, what a memory you have. No wonder your teachers
are pleased with you.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>settling herself comfortably in deck-chair</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of</i>
<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and lying in her arms</i>). Now tell me all about this one.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>meekly</i>). Which one?</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>excitedly</i>). Oh, are there lots?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>severely</i>). Only two.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Two! You abandoned woman!</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. It's something in the air, darling. I've never been in
Devonshire in April before.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Is it really serious this time?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>pained</i>). I wish you wouldn't say this time, Delia. It
sounds so unromantic. If you'd only put it into French&ndash;<i>cette
fois</i>&ndash;it sounds so much better. <i>Cette fois</i>. (<i>Parentally</i>.)
When one's daughter has just returned from an expensive schooling in
Paris, one likes to feel&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. What I meant, dear, was, am I to have a stepfather at last?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Now you're being too French, darling.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Why, do you still think father may be alive?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Why not? It's only eighteen years since he left us, and he was
quite a young man then.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Yes, but surely, surely you'd have heard from him in all those
years, if he'd been alive?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, he hasn't heard from <i>me</i>, and I'm still alive.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>looking earnestly at her mother, rises and moves</i> <span class="stage">L.C.</span>). I
shall never understand it.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Understand what?</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Were you as heavenly when you were young as you are now?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>rapturously</i>). Oh, I was sweet!</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. And yet he left you after only six months.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>rather crossly, sitting up</i>). I wish you wouldn't keep on
saying he left me. I left him too.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>running to and kneeling in front of</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and looking
anxiously into her face</i>). Why?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>smiling to herself</i>). Well, you see, he was quite certain
he knew how to manage women, and I was quite certain I knew how to
manage men. (<i>Thoughtfully</i>.) If only one of us had been certain,
it would have been all right.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>seriously</i>). What really happened, mummy? I'm grown up now,
so I think you ought to tell me.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>thoughtfully</i>). That was about all, you know ... except
for his beard.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Had he a beard? (<i>Laughing</i>.) How funny!</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>roaring with laughter, in which</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>joins</i>).
Yes, dear, it was; but he never would see it. He took it quite
seriously.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. And did you say dramatically, "If you really loved me, you'd take
it off"?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>apologetically</i>). I'm afraid I did, darling.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. And what did he say?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. He said&ndash;<i>very</i> rudely&ndash;that, if I loved <i>him</i>, I'd
do my hair in a different way.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>sinks down on her haunches, facing the audience</i>). How
ridiculous!</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>touching her hair</i>). Of course, I didn't do it like this
then. I suppose we never ought to have married, really.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Why did you?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Mother rather wanted it. (<i>Solemnly</i>.) Delia, never get
married because your mother&mdash; Oh, I forgot; <i>I'm</i> your mother.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. And I don't want a better one ... (<i>They embrace</i>.) And so
you left each other?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. But, darling, didn't you tell him there was going to be a Me?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh no!</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. I wonder why not?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, you see, if I had, he might have wanted to stay.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. But&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>hurt</i>). If he didn't want to stay for <i>me</i>, I didn't
want him to stay for <i>you</i>. (<i>Penitently</i>.) Forgive me, darling,
but I didn't know you very well then. We've been very happy together,
haven't we?</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>going to the hammock, sitting in it and dangling her
legs</i>). I should think we have.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>leaning back in chair</i>). I don't want to deny you
anything, and, of course, if you'd like a stepfather (<i>looking down
modestly</i>) or two&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh, you <i>have</i> been enjoying yourself.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Only you see how awkward it would be if Jack turned up in the
middle of the wedding, like&ndash;like Eugene Aram.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Enoch Arden, darling.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. It's very confusing their having the same initials. Perhaps I'd
better call them both E. A. in future and then I shall be safe. Well,
anyhow it would be awkward, darling, wouldn't it? Not that I should know
him from Adam after all these years&ndash;except for a mole on his left arm.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Perhaps Adam had a mole.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. No, darling; you're thinking of Noah. He had two.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>thoughtfully</i>). I wonder what would happen if you met
somebody whom you really <i>did</i> fall in love with?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>reproachfully</i>). Now you're being serious, and it's
April.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Aren't these two&ndash;the present two&ndash;serious?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh no! They think they are, but they aren't a bit, really.
Besides, I'm doing them such a lot of good. I'm sure they'd hate to
marry me, but they love to think they're in love with me, and&ndash;<i>I</i>
love it, and&ndash;and <i>they</i> love it, and&ndash;and we <i>all</i> love it.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>rising and crossing to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). You really are the
biggest, darlingest baby who ever lived. (<i>Kisses her</i>.) Do say I
shan't spoil your lovely times.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>surprised</i>). Spoil them? Why, you'll make them more
lovely than ever.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>turning away and sitting on table</i>). Well, but do they know
you have a grown-up daughter?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>suddenly realizing and sitting up</i>). Oh!</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. It doesn't really matter, because you don't look a day more than
thirty.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>absently</i>). No. (<i>Hurriedly</i>.) I mean, how sweet of
you&ndash;only&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. What!</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>playing with her rings</i>). Well, one of them, Mr. Baxter&ndash;Harold&ndash;(<i>she looks quickly up at</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and down again in
pretty affectation, but she is really laughing at herself all the
time</i>) he writes statistical articles for the Reviews&ndash;percentages
and all those things. He's just the sort of man, if he knew that I was
your mother, to work it out that I was more than thirty. The other one,
Mr. Devenish&ndash;Claude&ndash;(<i>she looks up and down as before</i>) he's
rather, rather poetical. He thinks I came straight from heaven&ndash;last
week.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>laughing and jumping up and crossing below deck-chair to</i>
<span class="stage">R.</span> <i>towards house</i>). I think <i>I'd</i> better go straight back to
Paris.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>jumping up and catching her firmly by the left arm</i>). You
will do nothing of the sort. (<i>Pulling</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>back to centre</i>.)
You will take off that hat&ndash;(<i>she lets go of the arm and begins to
take out the pin</i>) which is a perfect duck, and I don't know why I
didn't say so before&ndash;(<i>she puts the hat down on the table</i>) and
let me take a good look at you (<i>she does so</i>), and kiss you (<i>she
does so, then crosses</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>below her and takes her towards the
house</i>), and then we'll go to your room and unpack and have a lovely
talk about clothes. And then we'll have tea.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>comes in and stands up at back</i>.)</p>

<p>And now here's Betty coming in to upset all our delightful plans, just
when we'vt made them. (<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>are now on</i> <span class="char">Betty's</span> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>leaving</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and shaking hands with</i> <span class="char">Betty</span>). How
are you, Betty? I've left school.</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Very nicely, thank you, miss. (<i>Backing to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>and
admiring</i>.) You've grown.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>moving to and patting the top of</i> <span class="char">Delia's</span> <i>head</i>).
I'm much taller than she is... (<i>Crossing to</i> <span class="char">Betty</span> <i>in front
of</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.) Well, Betty, what is it?</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. The two gentlemen, Mr. Baxter and Mr. Devenish, have both called
together, ma'am.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>excited</i>). Oh! How&ndash;how very simultaneous of them!</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>eagerly, going towards house</i>). Oh, do let me see them!</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>stopping her</i>). Darling, you'll see plenty of them before
you've finished. (<i>To</i> <span class="char">Betty</span> <i>in an exaggerated whisper</i>.) What have
you done with them?</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. They're waiting in the hall, ma'am, while I said I would see if
you were at home.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. All right, Betty. Give me two minutes and then show them out
here.</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, ma'am.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>crosses below</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and exits into
the house</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>taking</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>a step</i>). They can't
do much harm to each other in two minutes.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>taking her hat from table</i>). Well, I'll go and unpack. 
(<i>She goes back to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>.) You really won't mind my  coming down
afterwards?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Of course not. (<i>A little awkwardly, taking</i> <span class="char">Delia's</span>
<i>arm and moving down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>) Darling one, I wonder if you'd mind&ndash;just
at first&ndash;being introduced as my niece. (<i>By now at foot of deck-chair</i>.) You see, I expect they're in a bad temper already
(<i>now</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>), having come here together, and we don't want to spoil
their day entirely.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>smiling, on</i> <span class="char">Belinda's</span> <span class="stage">L.</span>). I'll be your mother if you
like.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh no, that wouldn't do, because then Mr. Baxter would feel
that he ought to ask your permission before paying his attentions to me.
He's just that sort of man. A niece is so safe&ndash;however  good you are at
statistics, you can't really prove anything.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. All right, mummy.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>enjoying herself</i>). You'd like to be called by a
different name, wouldn't you? There's something so thrilling about
taking a false name. Such a lot of adventures begin like that. How would
you like to be Miss Robinson, darling? It's a nice easy one to remember.
(<i>Persuasively</i>.) And you shall put your hair up so as to feel more
disguised. What fun we're going to have!</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. You baby! All right, then, I'm Miss Robinson, your favourite
niece. (<i>She takes her jacket from the hammock and moves towards the
house</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. How sweet of you! No, no, not that way&ndash;you'll meet them.
(<i>Following quickly up between tree and table to</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>, <i>who has
now reached the house</i>.) Oh, I'm coming with you to do your hair.
(<i>Moving up</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>, <i>arm in arm with</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.) You don't think you're
going to be allowed to do it yourself, when so much depends on it, and
husbands leave you because of it, and&mdash;</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span>, <i>seeing</i> <span class="char">Betty</span> <i>entering from house, hurries</i>
<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>and they bob down behind the yew hedge</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>
<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>comes from the house into the garden, crossing to centre and up
stage looking for</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>, <i>followed by</i> <span class="char">Mr. Baxter</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Mr. Devenish</span>.
<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>gives an angry look round at</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>as he enters</i>. <span class="char">Mr. 
Baxter</span> <i>is forty-five, prim and erect, with close-trimmed moustache and 
side-whiskers. His clothes are dark and he wears a bowler-hat</i>. <span class="char">Mr. Devenish</span> <i>is a long-haired, good-looking boy in a n&eacute;glig&eacute; costume; 
perhaps twenty-two years old, and very scornful of the world</i>. <span class="char">Baxter</span>
<i>crosses to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>below</i> <span class="char">Betty</span>, <i>and turns to her with a sharp inquiring
glance</i>. <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>moves down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>languidly admiring the garden</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span> (<i>looking about her surprised</i>). The mistress was here a
moment ago. (<i>The two heads pop up from behind the hedge and then down
again immediately</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>exeunt</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>). I expect she'll
be back directly, if you'll just wait.</p>

<p>(<i>She goes back into the house</i>.)</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span>, <i>crossing to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>meets</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>who has moved
up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>is annoyed and with an impatient gesture comes down
between the tree and the table to chair</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>and sits</i>. <span class="char">Devenish</span>
<i>throws his felt hat on to the table and walks to the back of the 
hammock. He sees the review in the hammock and picks it up</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Good heavens, Baxter, she's been reading your article!</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I dare say she's not the only one.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. That's only guesswork (<i>going to back of table</i>); you
don't know of anyone else.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>with contempt</i>). How many people, may I ask, have bought
your poems?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>loftily</i>). I don't write for the mob.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I think I may say that of my own work.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Baxter, I don't want to disappoint you, but I have reluctantly
come to the conclusion that you are one of the mob. (<i>Throws magazine
down on table, annoyed</i>.) Dash it! what are you doing in the country
at all in a bowler-hat?</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. If I wanted to be personal, I could say, "Why don't you get your
hair cut?" Only that form of schoolboy humour doesn't appeal to me.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. This is not a personal matter; I am protesting on behalf of
nature. (<i>Leaning against tree</i>.) What do the birds and the flowers
and the beautiful trees think of your hat?</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. If one began to ask oneself what the <i>birds</i> thought of
things&ndash;(<i>He pauses</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Well, and why shouldn't one ask oneself? It is better than
asking oneself what the Stock Exchange thinks of things.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Well (<i>looking up at</i> <span class="char">Devenish's</span> <i>extravagant hair</i>),
it's the nesting season. Your hair! (<i>Suddenly</i>.) Ha! ha! ha! ha!
ha! ha!</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>hastily smoothing it down</i>). Really, Baxter, you're
vulgar. (<i>He turns away and resumes his promenading, going down <span class="stage">R.</span> and
then round deck-chair to front of hammock. Suddenly he sees his book on
the grass beneath the hammock and makes a dash for it</i>.) Ha, my book!
(<i>Gloating over it</i>.) Baxter, she reads my book.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I suppose you gave her a copy.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (exultingly). Yes, I gave her a copy. My next book will be hers
and hers alone.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Then let me say that, in my opinion, you took a very great
liberty.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Liberty! And this from a man who is continually forcing his
unwelcome statistics upon her.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. At any rate, I flatter myself that there is no suggestion of
impropriety in anything that <i>I</i> write.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I'm not so sure about that, Baxter.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. What do you mean, sir?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Did you read The Times this month on the new reviews!</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Well!</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Oh, nothing. It just said, "Mr. Baxter's statistics are
extremely suggestive."</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>makes a gesture of annoyance</i>.)</p>

<p>I haven't read them, so of course I don't know what you've been up to.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>rising, turning away in disgust and crossing up</i> L). Pah!</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Poor old Baxter! (<i>Puts book of poems down on table and
crosses below chair and gathers a daffodil from a large vase down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>
<i>and saying</i> "Poor old Baxter!" <i>ad lib</i>. <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>moves round back
of hammock and to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>collides with</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>and much annoyed
goes down between table and tree towards chair down</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>) Baxter&ndash;(<i>moving to and leaning against tree</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>turning to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>crossly</i>). I wish you wouldn't
keep calling me "Baxter."</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Harold.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>displays annoyance, and continues his walk to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>)</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. It is only by accident&ndash;an accident which we both deplore&ndash;that
we have met at all, and in any case I am a considerably older man than
yourself. (<i>Sits</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>)</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Mr. Baxter&ndash;father&ndash;(<i>gesture of annoyance from</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>)&ndash;I have a proposal to make. We will leave it to this beautiful flower to
decide which of us the lady loves.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>turning round</i>). Eh?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>pulling off the petals</i>). She loves me, she loves Mr.
Baxter, she loves me, she loves Mr. Baxter&ndash;(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>appears in the
porch</i>)&ndash;Heaven help her!&ndash;she loves me&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>coming down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>). What are you doing, Mr. Devenish!</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>throwing away the flower and bowing very low</i>). My lady.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>rises quickly</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (removing his bowler-hat stiffly). Good afternoon, Mrs. Tremayne.</p>

<p>(<i>She gives her left hand to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>, <i>who kisses it, and her
right to</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>, <i>who shakes it</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. How nice of you both to come!</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Mr. Devenish and I are inseparable&ndash;apparently.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. You haven't told me what you were doing, Mr. Devenish. Was it
(<i>plucking an imaginary flower</i>) "This year, next year?" or "Silk,
satin&ndash;"</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. My lady, it was even more romantic than that. I have the
honour to announce to your ladyship that Mr. Baxter is to be a sailor.
(<i>Dances round imitating the hornpipe</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>to</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>). Doesn't he talk nonsense?</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. He'll grow out of it. I did.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>moving down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and then to centre towards
hammock</i>). Oh, I hope not. I love talking nonsense, and I'm ever so
old. (<i>As they both start forward to protest</i>.) Now which one of
you will say it first?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. You are as old as the stars and as young as the dawn.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. You are ten years younger than I am.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. What sweet things to say! I don't know which I like best.

<span class="char">Devenish</span>. Where will my lady sit!</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with an exaggerated curtsy</i>). I will recline in the
hammock, an it please thee, my lord&mdash;</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>goes to the right of the hammock, saying</i> "Allow me."
<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>moves to the left of the hammock and holds it, takes up a
cushion which</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>snatches from him and places in hammock
again</i>.)</p>

<p>&ndash;only it's rather awkward getting in, Mr. Baxter. Perhaps you'd both
better look at the tulips for a moment.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Oh&ndash;ah&ndash;yes. (<i>Crosses down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>turns his back to the
hammock and examines the flowers</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (leaning over her). If only&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. You'd better not say anything, Mr. Devenlsh. Keep it for your
next volume. (<i>He turns away and examines flowers on</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>She
sits on hammock</i>.) One, two, three&ndash;(<i>throws her legs over</i>)&ndash;that was better than last time. (<i>They turn round to see her safely in
the hammock</i>. <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>leans against the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>tree at her feet,
and</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>draws the deck-chair from the right side of the table
and turns it round towards her. He presses his hat more firmly on
and sits down</i>.) I wonder if either of you can guess what I've been
reading this afternoon!</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>looking at her lovingly</i>). I know.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>giving him a fleeting look</i>). How did you know?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Well, I&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>to</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>). Yes, Mr. Baxter, it was your article I was
reading. If you'd come five minutes earlier you'd have found me
wrestling&ndash;I mean revelling in it.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I am very greatly honoured, Mrs. Tremayne. Ah&ndash;it seemed to me a
very interesting curve showing the rise and fall of&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I hadn't got up to the curves. They <i>are</i> interesting,
aren't they? They are really more in Mr. Devenish's line. (<i>To</i>
<span class="char">Devenish</span>.) Mr. Devenish, it was a great disappointment to me that all
the poems in your book seemed to be written to somebody else.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. It was before I met you, lady. They were addressed to the
goddess of my imagination. It is only in these last few weeks that I
have discovered her.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. And discovered she was dark and not fair.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. She will be dark in my next volume.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, how nice of her!</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>kindly</i>). You should write a real poem to Mrs. Tremayne.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>excitedly</i>). Oh do! "To Belinda." I don't know what
rhymes, except cinder. You could say your heart was like a cinder&ndash;all
burnt up.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>pained</i>). Oh, my lady, I'm afraid that is a cockney
rhyme.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. How thrilling! I've never been to Hampstead Heath.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. "Belinda." It is far too beautiful to rhyme with anything but
itself.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Fancy! But what about Tremayne? (<i>Singing</i>.) Oh, I am Mrs.
Tremayne, and I don't want to marry again.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>protesting</i>). My lady!</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>protesting</i>). Belinda!</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>pointing excitedly to</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>). There, that's the first
time he's called me Belinda! This naughty boy&ndash;(<i>indicating</i>
<span class="char">Devenish</span>)&ndash;is always doing it&ndash;by accident.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Are you serious?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Not as a rule.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. You're not going to marry again?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, who could I marry?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> and <span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>together</i>). Me!</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>dropping her eyes modestly</i>). But this is England.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>rising and taking off his hat, which he places on table, and
going up to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). Mrs. Tremayne, I claim the right of age&ndash;of my
greater years&ndash;to speak first.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Mrs. Tremayne, I&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>kindly to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>). You can speak afterwards, Mr.
Devenish. It's so awkward when you both speak together. (<i>To</i>
<span class="char">Baxter</span>, <i>giving encouragement</i>.) Yes?</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving down a little and then returning to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). Mrs.
Tremayne, I am a man of substantial position&ndash;(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>sniggers&ndash;to</i> <span class="char">Baxter's</span> <i>great annoyance</i>.) and perhaps I may say of some
repute in serious circles.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>sniggers again</i>.)</p>

<p>All that I have, whether of material or mental endowment, I lay at your
feet, together with an admiration which I cannot readily put into words.
As my wife I think you would be happy, and I feel that with you by my
side I could achieve even greater things.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. How sweet of you! But I ought to tell you that I'm no good at
figures.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>protesting</i>). My lady&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I don't mean what you mean, Mr. Devenish. You wait till it's
your turn. (<i>To</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>.) Yes?</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>very formally</i>). I ask you to marry me, Belinda.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>settling herself happily and closing her eyes</i>). O-oh!...
Now it's <i>your</i> turn, Mr. Devenish.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>excitedly</i>). Money&ndash;thank Heaven, I have no money.
Reputation&ndash;thank Heaven, I have no reputation.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span>, <i>very annoyed, moves down and sits on deck-chair</i>.)</p>

<p>What can I offer you? Dreams&ndash;nothing but dreams. Come with me and I
will show you the world through my dreams. What can I give you? Youth,
freedom, beauty&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Debts.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>still with her eyes shut</i>). You mustn't interrupt, Mr.
Baxter.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>leaning across hammock</i>). Belinda, marry me and I will
open your eyes to the beauty of the world. Come to me!</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>happily</i>). O-oh! You've got such different ways of
putting things. How can I choose between you?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Then you will marry one of us?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. You know I really <i>oughtn't</i> to.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I don't see why not.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, there's just a little difficulty in the way.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. What is it? I will remove it. For you I could remove anything
&ndash;yes, even Baxter. (<i>He looks at</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>, <i>who is sitting more
solidly than ever in his chair</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. And anyhow I should have to choose between you.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>in a whisper</i>), choose me.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>stiffly</i>). Mrs. Tremayne does not require any prompting. A
fair field and let the best man win.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>going across to and slapping the astonished</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>
<i>on the back</i>). Aye, let the best man win! Well spoken, Baxter.
(<span class="char">Baxter</span>  <i>is very annoyed. To</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and going back to her</i>
<span class="stage">L.</span>) Send us out into the world upon some knightly quest, lady, and let
the victor be rewarded.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I&ndash;er&ndash;ought to say that I should be unable to go very far. I
have an engagement to speak at Newcastle on the 2lst.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Baxter, I will take no unfair advantage of you. Let the beard
of the Lord Mayor of Newcastle be the talisman that my lady demands; I
am satisfied.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. This sort of thing is entirely contrary to my usual mode of
life, but I will not be outfaced by a mere boy. (<i>Rising</i>.) I am
prepared. (<i>Going to her</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Speak, lady.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>speaking in a deep, mysterious voice</i>). Gentlemen, ye put
wild thoughts into my head. In sooth, I <i>am</i> minded to send ye
forth upon a quest that is passing strange. Know ye that there is a maid
journeyed hither, hight Robinson&ndash;whose&ndash;(<i>in her natural voice</i>)
what's the old for aunt?</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>hopefully</i>). Mother's sister.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. You know, I think I shall have to explain this in ordinary
language. You won't mind very much, will you, Mr. Devenish?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. It is the spirit of this which matters, not the language 
which clothes it.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, I'm so glad you think so. Well, now about Miss Robinson.
She's my niece and she's just come to stay with me, and&ndash;poor girl&ndash;she's lost her father. Absolutely lost him. He disappeared ever such a
long time ago, and poor Miss Robinson&ndash;Delia&ndash;naturally wants to find
him. Poor girl! she <i>can't</i> think where he is.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>nobly</i>). I will find him.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, thank you, Mr. Devenish; Miss Robinson would be so much
obliged.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yes&ndash;er&ndash;but what have we to go upon? Beyond the fact that his
name is Robinson&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I shouldn't go on <i>that</i> too much. You see, he may easily
have changed it by now. He was never very much of a Robinson. Nothing to
do with Peter or any of those.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I will find him.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>with a look of annoyance at</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>). Well, can you tell
us what he's like?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, it's such a long time since I saw him. (<i>Looking down 
modestly</i>.) Of course, I was quite a girl then. The only thing I know
for certain is that he has a mole on his left arm about here. (<i>She
indicates a spot just below the elbow</i>. <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>examines it
closely</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>folding his arms and looking nobly upwards</i>). I will
find him.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I am bound to inform you, Mrs. Tremayne, that even a trained
detective could not give you very much hope in such a case. However, I
will keep a look-out for him, and, of course, if&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Fear not, lady, I will find him.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>annoyed</i>). Yes, you keep on saying that, but what have you
got to go on?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>grandly</i>). Faith! The faith which moves mountains.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, and this is only just one small mole-hill, Mr. Baxter.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yes, but still&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. S'sh! here is Miss Robinson.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>takes up his hat and moves below the deck-chair to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>
<i>to meet</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.)</p>

<p>If Mr. Devenish will hold the hammock while I alight&ndash;we don't want an
accident&mdash;</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>comes out of the house</i>.)</p>

<p>&ndash;I can introduce you. (<i>He helps her to get out, holding the
hammock</i>.) Thank you. Delia darling (<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>moves down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>) this
is Mr. Baxter,&ndash;and Mr. Devenish. My niece, Miss Robinson&mdash;</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>shakes hands with</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>and moves to</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>below</i>
<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and shakes hands with</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. How do you do?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Miss Robinson has just come over from France. <i>Man Dieu, quel
pays!</i></p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I hope you had a good crossing, Miss Robinson.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh, I never mind about the crossing. (<i>Very slowly and
shyly</i>.) Aunt Belinda&ndash;(<i>She stops and smiles</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, dear?</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. I believe tea is almost ready. I want mine, and I'm sure Mr.
Baxter's hungry. (<i>He sniggers approvingly</i>.) Mr. Devenish scorns
food, I expect.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>hurt</i>). Why do you say that?</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Aren't you a poet?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, darling, but that doesn't prevent him eating. He'll be
absolutely lyrical over Betty's sandwiches.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. You won't deny me that inspiration, I hope, Miss Robinson.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>taking</i> <span class="char">Delia's</span> <i>arm and moving with her to below deck-chair</i>). Well, let's go and see what they're like.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>moves up</i> <span class="stage">R.C.</span> <i>to below the porch, accompanied by</i>
<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>on her</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>, <i>who follows her on
her</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>They all move towards the porch</i>.)</p>

<p>Mr. Baxter, just a moment.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>apologizing to</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and moving in front of the others
to back of deck-chair</i>.) Yes?</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>gathers a daffodil from a vase</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and places it in</i>
<span class="char">Devenish's</span> <i>buttonhole</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>secretly</i>). Not a word to her about Mr. Robinson. It must
be a surprise for her.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Quite so, I understand.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. That's right. (<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>rejoins</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>. <i>Raising her
voice</i>.) Oh, Mr. Devenish.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span>, <i>who is evidently much attracted by</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>,
<i>apologizes to her and goes back between tree and hammock to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of</i>
<span class="char">Belinda</span>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Yes, Mrs. Tremayne?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>secretly</i>). Not a word to her about Mr. Robinson. It must
be a surprise for her.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Of course! I shouldn't dream&ndash;(<i>Indignantly</i>.)
Robinson! What an unsuitable name!</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>are just going into the house</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>dismissing</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>). All right, I'll catch you up.
(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>goes after the other two</i>.)</p>

<p>(<i>Left alone</i>, <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>laughs happily to herself, and then
begins to look  rather aimlessly about her. She picks up her sunshade
and opens it.  She comes to the hammock, picks out her handkerchief,
says, "Ah,  there you are!" and puts it away. She goes slowly towards
the house</i>.  <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>enters from</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>and with his back to
the audience tries latch of imaginary gate below scenic painted
gateway</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>turns her head, hearing imaginary click of the
garden gate</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>She comes slowly back</i> <span class="stage">R.C.</span>)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>seeing</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>). Have you lost yourself, or something? 
No; the latch is this side. ... Yes, that's right.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>comes in. He has been knocking about the world for 
eighteen years, and is very much a man, though he has kept his  manners.
His hair is greying a little at the sides, and he looks the  forty-odd
that he is. Without his moustache and beard he is very  different from
the boy</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>married</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> ( <i>with his hat in his hand</i> ). I'm afraid I'm
trespassing.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>winningly, moving down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>a little</i> ). But it's
such a  pretty garden (<i>turns away, dosing her parasol</i>), isn't it?</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span>, <i>half recognizing her, moves to back of hammock and leans
across to obtain a better view of her</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>rather confused</i>).  I-I beg your pardon, I-er&mdash;  (<i>He
is wondering if it can possibly be she</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>thinks his
confusion is due to the fact that he is trespassing, and hastens to put
him at his ease</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I should have done the same myself, you know.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>pulling himself together</i>). Oh, but you mustn't think I
just came in because I liked the garden&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>clapping her hands</i>). No; but say you do like it, quick.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. It's lovely and&mdash; (<i>He hesitates</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>hopefully</i>). Yes?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>with conviction</i>). Yes, it's lovely. <span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with
that happy sigh of hers</i>). O-oh! ... Now tell  me what really did
happen?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I was on my way to Marytown&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. To where?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Marytown.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, you mean Mariton.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Do I?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes; we always call it Mariton down here. (<i>Earnestly</i>.)
You don't mind, do you?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>smiling</i>). Not a bit.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Just say it&ndash;to see if you've got it right.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Mariton.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>shaking her head</i>). Oh no, that's quite wrong. Try it
again (<i>With a rustic accent</i>.) Mariton.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Mariton.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, that's much better .... (<i>As if it were he who had
interrupted</i>.) Well, do go on.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I'm afraid it isn't much of an apology really. I saw what
looked like a private road (<i>points</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>), but what I rather hoped
wasn't, and&ndash;well, I thought I'd risk it. I do hope you'll forgive me.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, but I love people seeing my garden. Are you staying in
Mariton?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I think so. Oh yes, decidedly.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, perhaps the next time the road won't feel so private.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. How charming of you! (<i>He feels he must know. A piano is
heard off playing "Belinda." The tune is continued until the fall of the
curtain</i>.) Are you Mrs. Tremayne by any chance?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>nodding to himself</i>). Yes.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. How did <i>you</i> know?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>hastily inventing, moving down</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>below the
hammock</i>). They use you as a sign-post in the village. Past Mrs.
Tremayne'a house and then bear to the left&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. And you couldn't go past it?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I'm afraid I couldn't. Thank you so much for not minding.
(<i>Going up to the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of her</i>.) Well, I must be getting on, I
have trespassed quite enough.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>regretfully</i>). And you haven't really seen the garden
yet.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. If you won't mind my going on this way, I shall see some more
on my way out.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Please do. It likes being looked at. (<i>With the faintest
suggestion of demureness</i>.) All pretty things do.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Thank you very much. (<i>Turns to go up c</i>.) Er&ndash;(<i>He
hesitates</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>helpfully</i>). Yes?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I wonder if you'd mind very much if I called one day to thank
you formally for the lesson you gave me in pronunciation?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>gravely</i>). Yes. I almost think you ought to. I think it's
the correct thing to do.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>contentedly</i>). Thank you very much, Mrs. Tremayne.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. You'll come in quite formally (<i>pointing to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>with
her sunshade</i>) by the front-door next time, won't you, because&ndash;because that seems the only chance of my getting to know your name.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Oh, I beg your pardon. My name is&ndash;er&ndash;er&ndash;Robinson.</p>

<p>(<i>She is highly amused and looks round towards the house, recalling to
her mind</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>laughing</i>). How very odd!</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>startled</i>). Odd?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes; we have some one called Robinson (<i>nodding  towards the
house</i>) staying in the house. I wonder if she is any relation?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>hastily</i>). Oh no, no. No, she couldn't be. I have no
relations called Robinson&ndash;not to speak of.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. You must tell me all about your relations when you  come and
call, Mr. Robinson.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I think we can find something better worth talking  about than
that.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Do you think so? (<i>He says "Yes" with his eyes,  bows, and
moves up</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>The piano is now forte. <span class="char">Belinda</span>  accompanies him up a
little, then stops. He turns in entrance up <span class="stage">C.</span>,  and they exchange
glances</i>. <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>exits to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>behind yew hedge. <span class="char">Belinda</span>
stays looking after him, then moves down to back of table and picking up
the book of poems, gives that happy sigh of hers, only even  more
so</i>.) O-oh!</p>

<p>(<i>Enter</i> <span class="char">Betty</span> <i>from porch</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. If you please, ma'am, Miss Delia says, are you coming in to tea?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>looking straight in front of her, and taking no notice
of</i>  <span class="char">Betty</span>, <i>in a happy, dreamy voice</i>). Betty, ... about 
callers .... If  Mr. Robinson calls&ndash;he's the handsome gentleman who
hasn't  been here before (<i>puts book down</i>)&ndash;you will say, "Not at
home."  And he will say, "Oh!" And you will say, "I beg your pardon, 
sir, was it Mr. Robinson?" And he will say, "Yes!" And you  will say,
"Oh, I beg your pardon, sir&ndash;" (<i>Almost as if she were <span class="char">Betty</span>, she
begins to move towards the house</i>.) "This way&ndash;" (<i>she  would be
smiling an invitation over her shoulder to</i> <span class="char">Mr. Robinson</span>, <i>if he
were there, and she were</i> <span class="char">Betty</span>)&ndash;"please!" (<i>And the abandoned 
woman goes in to tea</i>.)</p>

<p style="text-align: center; font-variant: small-caps">Curtain</p>


<h2>Act II</h2>


<p><i>It is morning in</i> <span class="char">Belinda's</span> <i>hall, a low-roofed, oak-beamed
place, comfortably furnished as a sitting-room. There is an inner and an
outer front-door, both of which are open. Up</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>is a door leading
to a small room where hats and coats are kept. A door on the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>
<i>leads towards the living-rooms</i>.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>enters from up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>at back, passes the windows of the
inner room and crosses to the porch. He rings the electric bell outside,
then enters through the swing doors</i> <span class="stage">R.C.</span> <span class="char">Betty</span> <i>enters</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>
<i>and moves up at back of settee</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>by the swing
doors. He is carrying a large bunch of violets and adopts a very aesthetic
attitude</i>.</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Good morning, sir.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Good morning. I am afraid this is an unceremonious hour for a
call, but my sense of beauty urged me hither in defiance of convention.</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, sir.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>holding up his bouquet to</i> <span class="char">Betty</span>). See, the dew is yet
lingering upon them; how could I let them wait until this afternoon?</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, sir; but I think the mistress is out.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. They are not for your mistress; they are for Miss Delia.</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Oh, I beg your pardon, sir. If you will come in, I'll see if I
can find her. (<i>She crosses to the door</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and goes away to
find</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>, <i>dosing the door after her</i>.)</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>tries a number of poses about the room for himself and hit
bouquet. He crosses below the table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>and sits</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of it
and is about to place his elbow on the table when he finds the toy dog
which has been placed there is in his way. He removes it to the centre
of the table and then leans with his elbow on table and finds this pose
unsuitable so he crosses to above the fireplace and leans against the
upper portico, resting on his elbow which slips and nearly prostrates
him. He then crosses up to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of the cupboard door at back centre
and leans on his elbow against the wall</i>.)</p>

<p>(<i>Enter</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>from the door</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>shutting the door and going to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>). Oh, good
morning, Mr. Devenish.</p>

<p>[Illustration :]</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>kisses her hand</i>.)</p>

<p>I'm afraid my&ndash;er&ndash;aunt is out.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I know, Miss Delia, I know.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. She'll be so sorry to have missed you. It is her day for you,
isn't it?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Her day for me?</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Yes; Mr. Baxter generally comes to-morrow, doesn't he?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>jealously</i>). Miss Delia, if our friendship is to
progress at all, it can only be on the distinct understanding that I
take no interest whatever (<i>coming to back of table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>) in Mr.
Baxter's movements.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>moving down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>a little</i>). Oh, I'm so sorry; I
thought you knew. What lovely flowers! Are they for my aunt?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. To whom does one bring violets? To modest, shrinking, tender
youth.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. I don't think we have anybody here like that.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>with a bow and holding out the violets to her</i>). Miss
Delia, they are for you.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>smelling and taking violets</i>). Oh, how nice of you! But I'm
afraid I oughtn't to take them from you under false pretences; I don't
shrink.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. A fanciful way of putting it, perhaps. They are none the less
for you.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Well, it's awfully kind of you. (<i>Puts flowers down. Then she
moves up to the cupboard. He follows on her</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>and opens the
door</i>.) I'm afraid I'm not a very romantic person. (<i>Turning to him
in cupboard doorway</i>.) Aunt Belinda does all the romancing in our
family.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Your aunt is a very remarkable woman.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. She is. Don't you dare to say a word against her. (<i>Takes up a
vase from a chair in cupboard and shakes it as if draining it</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. My dear Miss Delia, nothing could be further from my thoughts.
Why, am I not indebted to her for that great happiness which has come to
me in these last few days?</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>surprised</i>). Good gracious! and I didn't know anything
about it. (<i>Coming down to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of table with vase</i>.) But what
about poor Mr. Baxter?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>stiffly, crossing over to fireplace, very annoyed</i>). I
must beg that Mr. Baxter's name be kept out of our conversation.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>going up to table behind Chesterfield up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>). But I
thought Mr. Baxter and you were such friends.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>takes water carafe from the table and smiles at</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>&ndash;<i>which he does not see</i>.)</p>

<p>Do tell me what's happened. (<i>Moving down to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>,
<i>she sits and arranges the flowers</i>.) I seem to have lost myself.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>coming to the back of</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table and reclining on
it</i>.) What has happened, Miss Delia, is that I have learnt at last
the secret that my heart has been striving to tell me for weeks past. As
soon as I saw that gracious lady, your aunt, I knew that I was in love.
Foolishly  I took it for granted that it was she for whom my heart was
thrilling. How mistaken I was! Directly you came, you opened my eyes,
and now&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Mr. Devenish, you don't say you're proposing to me?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I am. I feel sure I am. (<i>Leaning towards her</i>.) Delia, I
love you.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. How exciting of you!</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>with a modest shrug</i>). It's nothing; I am a poet.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. You really want to marry me?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Such is my earnest wish.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. But what about my aunt?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>simply</i>). She will be my aunt-in-law.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. She'll be rather surprised.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Delia, I will be frank with you. (<i>Sits</i>.) I admit that I
made Mrs. Tremayne an offer of marriage.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>excitedly</i>). You really did? Was it that first afternoon I
came?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Yes.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh, I wish I'd been there!</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>with dignity, rising and moving to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of table</i>).
It is not my custom to propose in the presence of a third party. It is
true that on the occasion you mention a man called Baxter was on the
lawn, but I regarded him no more than the old apple-tree or the flower-beds, or any other of the fixtures.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. What did she say?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. She accepted me conditionally.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh, do tell me!</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. It is rather an unhappy story. This man called Baxter in his
vulgar way also made a proposal of marriage. Mrs. Tremayne was gracious
enough to imply that she would marry whichever one of us fulfilled a
certain condition.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. How sweet of her!</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. It is my earnest hope, Miss Delia, that the man called Baxter
will be the victor. As far as is consistent with honour, I shall
endeavour to let Mr. Baxter (<i>banging the table with his hand</i>)
win.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. What was the condition?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. That I am not at liberty to tell.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh!</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. It is, I understand, to be a surprise for you.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. How exciting! (<i>Rising and taking vase of violets which she
places up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>) Mr. Devenish, you have been very frank (<i>coming to
front of settee</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and sitting</i>). May I be equally so?</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>crosses to her and bows in acquiescence</i>.) Why do you
wear your hair so long?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>pleased</i>). You have noticed it?</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Well, yes, I have.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I wear it so to express my contempt for the conventions  of
so-called society.  <span class="char">Delia</span>. I always thought that people wore it very
very short if they  despised the conventions of society.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I think that the mere fact that my hair annoys Mr. Baxter is
sufficient justification for its length.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. But if it annoys me too?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>heroically</i>). It shall go. (<i>Sits on settee above</i>
<span class="char">Delia</span>.)</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>enters from up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>with a garden basket supposed to
contain  cutlets. She crosses the windows at back</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>apologetically</i>). I told you I wasn't a very romantic 
person, didn't I? (<i>Kindly</i>.) You can always grow it again if you 
fall in love with somebody else.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. That is cruel of you, Delia. I shall never fall in love again.</p>

<p>(<i>Enter</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>through swing doors</i> <span class="stage">B.C.</span>)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Why, it's Mr. Devenish!</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>rises and kisses her hand somewhat sheepishly</i>.)</p>

<p>How nice of you to come so early in the morning! How is Mr. Baxter!</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>annoyed and crossing behind</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>to her</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>).
I  do not know, Mrs. Tremayne.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>coming down to</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and sitting in the place vacated
by  <span class="char">Devenish</span></i>). I got most of the things, Delia. (<i>To</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>.)
"The things," Mr. Devenish, is my rather stuffy way of referring to all
the delightful poems that you are going to eat to-night.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I am looking forward to it immensely, Mrs. Tremayne.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I do hope I've got all your and Mr. Baxter's favourite dishes.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>annoyed and, moving to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>foot of table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>). I'm
afraid Mr. Baxter and I are not likely to appreciate the same things.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>coyly</i>). Oh, Mr. Devenish! And you were so unanimous  a
few days ago.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. I think Mr. Devenish. was referring entirely to things to eat.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I felt quite sad when I was buying the lamb cutlets.  To think
that, only a few days before, they had been frisking about with their
mammas, and having poems written about them by Mr.  Devenish. There! I'm
giving away the whole dinner. Delia, take him  away before I tell him
any more.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>rises, goes to table and picks up water carafe which she
replaces on refectory table up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>)</p>

<p>We must keep some surprises for him.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>as she crosses back to table</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and
picks up the flowers</i>). Come along, Mr. Devenish.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>wickedly</i>). Are those my flowers, Mr. Devenish?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>advancing to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and laughing awkwardly, after a
little hesitation, with a bow which might refer to either of them</i>).
They are for the most beautiful lady in the land.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, how nice of you!</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>crosses to door</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and opens it for</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>,
<i>who follows him and exits</i>. <span class="char">Devenish</span>, <i>standing above door,
catches <span class="char">Belinda's</span> eye and with an awkward laugh follows</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I suppose he means Delia&ndash;bless them! (<i>She kisses her hand
towards the door</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>She then rises and crosses below the
table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>, <i>placing her basket on the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>end of it, to the
fireplace. She rings the bell. Then she moves up on the</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>side
of the Chesterfield to the refectory table and takes off her hat. She
takes up a mirror from the table and gives a few pats to her hair, and
as she is doing so <span class="char">Betty</span> enters from door</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and crosses the room
towards</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>pointing to basket on the</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table</i>). Oh, Betty&mdash;</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>moves to back of</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table and takes up the basket.
Crosses above settee and exits through door</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>is moving
towards the swing doors when she catches sight of</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>entering
from the garden up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>She moves quickly to the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table,
takes up a book and going to Chesterfield</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>, <i>lies down with her
head to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>looks in through the window up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>then crosses
round and enters through the portico and the swing doors</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span>
<i>pretends to be very busy reading</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>rather nervously, in front of wring doors</i>). Er&ndash;may I
come in, Mrs. Tremayne?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>dropping her book and turning round with a violent
start</i>). Oh, Mr. Baxter, how you surprised me! (<i>She puts her hand
to her heart and sits up and faces him</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I must apologize for intruding upon you at this hour, Mrs.
Tremayne.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>holding up her hand</i>). Stop!</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>startled</i>). What?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I cannot let you come in like that.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>looking down at himself</i>). Like what?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>dropping her eyes</i>). You called me Belinda once.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>coming down to her</i>). May I explain my position, Mrs.
Tremayne?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Before you begin&ndash;have you been seeing my niece lately?</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>surprised</i>). No.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh! (<i>Sweetly</i>.) Please go on.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Why, is <i>she</i> lost too?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh no; I just&mdash; Do sit down.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>moves to the chair</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table and sits</i>.
<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>rises  when he has sat down</i>.)</p>

<p>Let me put your hat down somewhere for you.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>keeping it firmly in his hand</i>). It will be all right
here, thank you.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>returning to the Chesterfield and sitting</i>). I'm dying to
hear what you are going to say.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. First as regards the use of your Christian name. I felt that, as
a man of honour, I could not permit myself to use it until I had
established my right over that of Mr. Devenish.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. All my friends call me Belinda.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. As between myself and Mr. Devenish the case is somewhat
different. Until one of us is successful over the other in the quest
upon which you have sent us, I feel that as far as possible we should
hold aloof from you.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>pleadingly</i>). Just say "Belinda" once more, in case
you're a long time.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>very formally</i>). Belinda.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. How nicely you say it&ndash;Harold.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>getting out of his seat</i>). Mrs. Tremayne, I must not
listen to this.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>meekly</i>). I won't offend again, Mr. Baxter. Please go on.
(<i>She motions him to sit&ndash;he does so</i>.) Tell me about the quest;
are you winning?</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I am progressing, Mrs. Tremayne. Indeed, I came here this
morning to acquaint you with the results of my investigations.
(<i>Clears his throat</i>.) Yesterday I located a man called Robinson
working upon a farm close by. I ventured to ask him if he had any marks
upon him by which he could be recognized. He adopted a threatening
attitude, and replied that if I wanted any he could give me some. With
the aid of half-a-crown I managed to placate him. Putting my inquiry in
another form, I asked if he had any moles. A regrettable
misunderstanding, which led to a fruitless journey to another part of
the village, was eventually cleared up, and on my return I satisfied
myself that this man was in no way related to your niece.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>admiringly</i>). How splendid of you!</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yes.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, now, we know <i>he's</i> not. (<i>She holds up one
finger</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yes. In the afternoon I located another Mr. Robinson following
the profession of a carrier. My first inquiries led to a similar result,
with the exception that in this case Mr. Robinson carried his
threatening attitude so far as to take off his coat and roll up his
sleeves. Perceiving at once that he was not the man, I withdrew.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. How brave you are!</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yes.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. That makes two.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yea.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>holding up another finger</i>). It still leaves a good many.
(<i>Pleadingly</i>.) Just call me Belinda again.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>rising and backing to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>a little, nervously</i>). You
mustn't tempt me, Mrs. Tremayne.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>penitently</i>). I won't!</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>going slowly to fireplace and placing his hat down on
urmchair below fireplace</i>). To resume, then, my narrative. This
morning I have heard of a third Mr. Robinson. Whether there is actually
any particular fortune attached to the number three I cannot say for
certain. It is doubtful whether statistics would be found to support the
popular belief. But one likes to flatter oneself that in one's own case
it may be true; and so&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. And so the third Mr. Robinson&ndash;?</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Something for which I cannot altogether account inspires me with
hope. He is, I have discovered, staying at Mariton. This afternoon I go
to look for him.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>to herself</i>). Mariton! How funny! I wonder if it's the
same one.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. What one?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, just one of the ones. (<i>Gratefully</i>.) Mr. Baxter, you
are doing all this for <i>me</i>.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Pray do not mention it. I don't know if it's Devonshire 
(<i>going to and sitting</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>), or the time of the
year, or the sort of atmosphere you create, Mrs. Tremayne, but I feel an
entirely different man. There is something in the air which&ndash;yes, I
shall certainly go over to Mariton this afternoon.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>gravely</i>). I have had the same feeling sometimes, Mr.
Baxter. I am not always the staid respectable matron which I appear to
you to be. Sometimes I&ndash;(<i>She looks absently at the watch on her
wrist</i>.) Good gracious!</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>alarmed</i>). What is it!</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>looking anxiously from the door to him</i>). Mr. Baxter, I'm
going to throw myself on your mercy.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. My dear Mrs. Tremayne&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>looking at her watch again, rising and moving up</i> <span class="stage">L.C.</span>,
<i>looking at door</i>). A strange man will be here directly. He must not
find you with me.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>rising, jealously</i>). A man?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>excitedly</i>). Yes, yes, a man! He is pursuing me with his
attentions. If he found you here, there would be a terrible scene.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I will defend you from him.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>crossing down to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of Chesterfield</i>). No, no. He
is a big man. He will&ndash;he will overpower you. (<i>Moving</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>a
little and looking out of windows</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. But you&ndash;!</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I can defend myself. I will send him away. But he must not find
you here. You must hide before he overpowers you.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>with dignity, crossing below table to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>). I will
withdraw if you wish it.  <span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>following to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>at back of
table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>). No, not withdraw, hide. He might see you withdrawing.
(<i>Leading the way to the cupboard door</i>.) Quick, in here.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>embarrassed at the thought that this sort of thing really
only happens in a bedroom farce and moving towards her</i>). I don't
think I quite&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>reassuring him</i>). It's perfectly respectable; it's where
we keep the umbrellas. (<i>She takes him by the hand</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>resisting and looking nervously into the cupboard</i>). I'm
not at all sure that I&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>earnestly</i>). Oh, but don't you see what <i>trust</i> I'm
putting in you? (<i>To herself</i>.) Some people are so nervous about
their umbrellas.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Well, of course, if you&ndash;but I don't see why I shouldn't just
slip out of the door before he comes.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>reproachfully</i>). Of course, if you grudge me every little
pleasure&ndash;(<i>Crossing in front of</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>towards swing doors
and seeing</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>coming</i>.) Quick! Here he is.</p>

<p>(<i>She bundles him through the cupboard door and closes it and with a
sign of happiness crosses down to</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table. She sees</i> <span class="char">Baxter's</span>
<i>bowler hat on the arm-chair below the fireplace. She fetches and
carries it over to the cupboard door, knocks and hands it to him,
saying</i>, "Your hat!")</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>expostulating and nearly knocking her over as he comes
out</i>). Well, really I&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>bundling him into the cupboard and closing the door</i>).
Hush!</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>straightens her hair, takes up her book from</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>
<i>of</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table and sits, stroking the head of the toy dog and
pretending to read</i>. <span class="char">Tremayne</span>  <i>enters from garden up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and 
through the swing doors up</i> <span class="stage">R.C.</span>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>gives an assumed cry of
surprise</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>at the swing doors</i>). It's no good your pretending to be
surprised, because you said I could come. (<i>Coming down to the back of
the table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>and putting down his hat</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>rising, shaking hands and welcoming him</i>). But I can
still be surprised that you wanted to come.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> Oh no, you aren't.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>markng it off on her fingers</i>). Just a little bit&ndash;that
much.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. It would be much more surprising if I hadn't come.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>crossing to the Chesterfield, picking up her book and
handing it to</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>, <i>who puts it on the table</i>). It is a
pretty garden, isn't it? (<i>She sits on</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>end of Chesterfield</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>coming to her</i>). You forget that I saw the garden
yesterday.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, but the things have grown so much since then. Let me see,
this is the third day you've been and we only met three days ago. (<i>He
moves behind the Chesterfield to the left end of it</i>.) And then
you're coming to dinner again to-night.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>eagerly and leaning over the Chesterfield</i>). Am I?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes. Haven't you been asked?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>going round the left end of the Chesterfield</i>). No, not
a word.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, that's quite right; I remember now, I only thought of it
this morning, so I couldn't ask you before, could I?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>earnestly</i>). What made you think of it then?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>romantically</i>). It was at the butcher's.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Eh?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. There was one little lamb cutlet left over and sitting out all
by itself, and there was nobody to love it. And I said to myself,
suddenly, "I know, that will do for Mr. Robinson." (<i>Protaically</i>.) 
I do hope you like lamb?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>sitting on her left side</i>). I adore it.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, I'm so glad I When I saw it sitting there I thought you'd
love it. I'm afraid I can't tell you any more about the rest of the
dinner, because I wouldn't tell Mr. Devenish, and I want to be fair.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>jealously</i>). Who's Mr. Devenish?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, haven't you met him? He's always coming here.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> Is he in love with you too?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Too? Oh, you mean Mr. Baxter?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>rising and moving to fireplace</i>). Confound it, that's
three!</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>innocently</i>). Three? (<i>She looks up at him and down
again</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Who is Mr. Baxter?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, haven't you met him? He's always coming here.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>turning away and looking into fireplace</i>). Who is Mr.
Baxter?</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>appears at cupboard doorway</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>hears him and
gives a startled look round. She signs to him to go back. <span class="char">Baxter</span>
retreats immediately and closes door</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, he's a sort of statistician. Isn't that a horrid word to
say? So stishany.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. What does he make statistics about?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh (<i>giving a sly look round at cupboard door</i>), umbrellas
and things. Don't let's talk about him.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. All right, then; (<i>going up to her jealously</i>) who is Mr.
Devenish?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, he's a poet. (<i>She throws up her eyes and sighs
deeply</i>.) Ah me!</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. What does he write poetry about?</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>looks at him, and down again, and then at him again, and
then down, then raises and drops her arms, and gives a little sigh&ndash;all
of which means, "Can't you guess?"</i>)</p>

<p>What does he write poetry about?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>obediently</i>). He wrote "The Lute of Love and other Poems,
by Claude Devenish."</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>is annoyed and turns away to the fireplace</i>.)</p>

<p>The Lute of Love&ndash;(<i>To herself</i>.) I haven't been saying that
lately. (<i>With great expression</i>.) The Lute of Love&ndash;the Lute.
(<i>She pats her mouth back</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. And who is Mr. Devenish&ndash;!</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>putting her hand on his sleeve</i>). You'll let me know when
it's my turn, won't you?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Your turn?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, to ask questions. I love this game&ndash;it's just like clumps.
(<i>She crosses her hands on her lap and waits for the next
question</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I beg your pardon. I&ndash;er&ndash;of course have no right to cross-examine you like this.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, do go on, I love it. (<i>With childish excitement</i>.)
I've got my question ready.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>smiling and going and sitting beside her again</i>). I
think perhaps it <i>is</i> your turn.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>eagerly</i>). Is it really? (<i>He nods</i>.) Well then&ndash;(<i>in a loud voice</i>)&ndash;who is Mr. Robinson?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>alarmed</i>). What?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I think it's a fair question. I met you three days ago and you
told me you were staying at Mariton. Mariton. You can say it all right
now, can't you?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I think so.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>coaxingly</i>). Just say it.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Mariton.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>clapping her hands</i>). Lovely! I don't think any of the
villagers do it as well as that.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Well?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>looking very hard at <span class="char">Tremayne</span>&ndash;he wonders whether she has
discovered his identity</i>). Well, that was three days ago. You came
the next day to see the garden, and you came the day after to see the
garden, and you've come this morning&ndash;to see the garden; and you're
coming to dinner to-night, and it's so lovely, we shall simply have to
go into the garden afterwards. And all I know about you is that you
haven't any relations called Robinson.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. What do I know about Mrs. Tremayne but that she has a relation
called Robinson?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. And two dear friends called Devenish and Baxter.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>rising&ndash;annoyed</i>). I was forgetting them. (<i>Crosses to
below</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>end of</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>to herself, with a sly look round at the cupboard</i>), I
mustn't forget Mr. Baxter.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. But what does it matter? What would it matter if I knew
nothing about you? (<i>Moving up to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>end of Chesterfield and
leaning over it</i>.) I know everything about you&ndash;everything that
matters.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>leaning back and closing her eyes contentedly</i>). Tell me
some of them.  <span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>bending over her earnestly</i>). Belinda&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>still with her eyes shut</i>). He's going to propose to me.
I can feel it coming.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>starting back</i>). Confound it! how many men <i>have</i>
proposed to you?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>surprised</i>). Since when?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Since your first husband proposed to you.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, I thought you meant this year. (<i>Sitting up</i>.) Well
now, let me see. (<i>Slowly and thoughtfully</i>.) One. (<i>She pushes
up her first finger</i>.) Two. (<i>She pushes up the second</i>.) Three.
(<i>She pushes up the third finger, holds it there for a moment and then
pushes it gently down again</i>.) No, I don't think that one ought to
count really. (<i>She pushes up two more fingers and the thumb</i>.) Three,
four, five&ndash;do you want the names or just the total?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>moving up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>and then over</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>). This is horrible.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>innocently</i>). But anybody can propose. Now if you'd asked
how many I'd accepted&mdash;</p>

<p>(<i>He turns sharply to her&ndash;annoyed</i>.)</p>

<p>Let me see, where was I up to?</p>

<p>(<i>He moves down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p>

<p>I shan't count yours, because I haven't really had it yet.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>enters down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and stands behind settee</i>.)</p>

<p>Six, seven&ndash;Yes, Betty, what is it?</p>

<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. If you please, ma'am, cook would like to speak to you for a
minute.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>goes up</i> <span class="stage">R.C.</span>)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>getting up</i>). Yes, I'll come.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>goes out, leaving the door open</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>crosses Before
the table</i>.)</p>

<p>(<i>To</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>.) You'll forgive me, won't you? You'll find some
cigarettes there. (<i>Points to table up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>moves by the
back of the settee and holds the door for</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>. <i>She turns to him in
the doorway</i>.) It's probably about the lamb cutlets; I expect your
little one refuses to be cooked.</p>

<p>(<i>She goes out after</i> <span class="char">Betty</span>.)</p>

<p>(<i>Left alone</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>stalks moodily about the room, crossing
it and kicking things which come in his way. Violently, he kicks a
hassock which is above the table</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>to under the table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>,
<i>then he takes up his hat and moves towards the swing doors and half
opens them. He pauses and considers&ndash;then he comes down to the centre
table, throws down his hat, moves round the left end of the table, finds
the dog in the way and then sits on the table with his hands in his
pockets, facing the audience. As he has been moving about the room, he
has muttered the names of</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>entering from the door</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>which he closes and goes
to foot of the settee <span class="stage">R.</span>&ndash;surprised</i>). Hullo!</p>

<p>(<i>A pause</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>jealously, and rising</i>). Are you Mr. Devenish?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Yes.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Devenish the poet?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>coming up and shaking him warmly by the hand</i>). My dear
fellow, you know my work?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>grimly</i>). My dear Mr. Devenish, your name is most
familiar to me.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I congratulate you. I thought your great-grand-children would
be the first to hear of me.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>moving to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>). My name's Robinson, by the way.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>connecting him with</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>). Then let me return the
compliment, Robinson. Your name is familiar to me.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>hastily, and going towards</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>). I don't think I'm
related to any Robinsons you know.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>dubiously</i>). Well, no, I suppose not. When I was very
much younger I began a collection of Robinsons. Actually it was only
three days ago, but it seems much longer. (<i>Thinking of</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.)
Many things have happened since then.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>uninterested, moving</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>) Really!</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. There is a man called Baxter&ndash;(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>displays his
jealousy of</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>.) who is still collecting, I believe. For myself,
I am only interested in one of the great family&ndash;Delia.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>eagerly, and going quickly to him and placing his hand on
<span class="char">Devenish's</span> left shoulder</i>). You are interested in <i>her</i>?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Devotedly. In fact, I am at this moment waiting for her to put
on her hat.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>warmly, banging him on the shoulder with both hands</i>).
My dear Devenish, I am delighted to make your acquaintance. (<i>He
seizes his hand and grips it heartily</i>.) How are you?             
(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>backs to the settee in pain</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>sitting on settee, feeling his fingers</i>). Fairly well,
thanks.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>sitting above him and banging him on the back</i>). That's
right.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>still nursing his hand</i>). You are a very lucky fellow,
Robinson.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. In what way?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. People you meet must be so very reluctant to say good-bye to
you. Have you ever tried strangling lions or anything like that?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>with a laugh</i>). Well, as a matter of fact, I have.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I suppose you won all right?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. In the end, with the help of my beater.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Personally I should have backed you alone against any two
ordinary lions.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. One was quite enough. As it was, he gave me something to
remember him by. (<i>Putting up his left sleeve, he displays a deep
scar</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>looking at it casually</i>). By Jove, that's a nasty one!
(<i>He suddenly catches sight of the mole and stares at it fascinated,
then  stares up at</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>.) Good heavens!</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. What's the matter?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>clasping his head</i>). Wait. (<i>Rising and moving up to</i>
<span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>.) Let me think. (<i>After a pause</i>.) Have you 
ever met a man called Baxter?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. No.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Would you like to?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>grimly</i>). Very much indeed.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. He's the man I told you about who's interested in Robinsons.
He'll be delighted to meet you. (<i>With a nervous laugh</i>.) Funny
thing, he's rather an authority on lions. You must  show him that scar
of yours; it will intrigue him immensely. (<i>Earnestly</i>.) 
<i>Don't</i> shake hands with him too heartily just at first; it  might
put him off the whole thing.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. This Mr. Baxter seems to be a curious man.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>absently</i>). Yes, he is rather odd. (<i>Looking at his 
watch</i>.) I wonder if I&ndash;(<i>To</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>.) I suppose you won't
be&mdash; (<i>He stops suddenly. A slight tapping noise comes from the room
where they keep umbrellas</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. What's that!</p>

<p>(<i>The tapping noise is repeated, a little more loudly this time.
<span class="char">Devenish</span> moves to end of table</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Come in.</p>

<p>(<i>The door opens and</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>comes in nervously, holding his
bowler hat in his hand. He moves towards the swing doors</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>apologetically</i>). Oh, I just&ndash;(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>stands up</i>)
&ndash;I just&ndash;(<i>He goes back again</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>springing across the room</i>). Baxter!</p>

<p>(<i>The door opens nervously again and <span class="char">Baxter's</span> head appears round it</i>.)</p>

<p>Come in, Baxter, old man; you're just the very person I wanted.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>comes in carefully</i>. <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>closes the door</i>.)</p>

<p>Good man. (<i>To</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>, <i>taking</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>,
<i>and placing his arm round his shoulders</i>.) This is Mr. Baxter that
I was telling you about.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>removes</i> <span class="char">Devenish's</span> <i>arm from his shoulders</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>moving up to</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>and much relieved at the
appearance  of his rival</i>). Oh, is this Mr. Baxter? (<i>Holding out
his hand with great friendliness</i>.) How are you, Mr. Baxter?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>warningly</i>). Steady!</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>shakes</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>quite gently by the hand</i>.)</p>

<p>Baxter, this is Mr. Robinson. (<i>Casually</i>.) R-o-b-i-n-s-o-n. (<i>He
looks sideways at</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>to see how he takes it</i>. <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>is
noticeably impressed</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Really? I am very glad to meet you, sir.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Very good of you to say so.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>to</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>, <i>taking his arm</i>. <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>is annoyed
and gets free</i>). Robinson is a great big-game hunter.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving down to</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>). Indeed? I have never done
anything in that way myself, but I'm sure it must be an absorbing
pursuit.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Oh, well, it's something to do.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>to</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>). You must get him to tell you about a
wrestle he had with a lion once. Extraordinary story! (<i>Looking at his
watch suddenly</i>.) Jove! I must be off. See you again, Baxter. (<i>He
bangs</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>on the shoulder and moves down to</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>.)
Good-bye, Robinson. No, don't shake hands. I'm in a hurry. (<i>He looks
at his watch again and goes out hurriedly by the door on the</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>sits on settee</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>on chair</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>
<i>of</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table. He puts his hat on the table</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Unusual man, your friend Devenish. I suppose it comes of being
a poet.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I have no great liking for Mr. Devenish&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Oh, he's all right.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. But I am sure that if he is impressed by anything outside
himself or his own works, it must be something rather remarkable. Pray
tell me of your adventure with the lion.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>laughing</i>). Really, you mustn't think that I go about
telling everybody my adventures. It just happened to come up. I'm afraid 
I shook his hand rather more warmly than I meant, and he asked me if I'd
ever tried strangling lions. That was all.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. And had you?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Well, it just happened that I had.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Indeed! You came off scatheless, I trust?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>carelessly indicating his arm</i>). Well, he got me one
across there.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>rising and coming to above</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>, <i>obviously
excited</i>). Really, really. (<i>Points to his arm</i>.) One across
there. Not bad, I hope?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>laughing</i>). Well, it doesn't show unless I do that.
(<i>He pulls up his sleeve carelessly and</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>bends eagerly
over his arm and sees the mole and very slowly looks up at</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>, 
<i>then down at the arm again, then up at</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Good heavens! I've found it! (<i>He runs over to the table and
picks up his hat</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Found what? (<i>He pulls down his sleeve</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>going up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>). I must see Mrs. Tremayne. Where's Mrs.
Tremayne?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. She went out just now. What's the matter?</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Out! I must find her. This is a matter of life and death. (<i>He
hurries through the swing doors</i>.) Mrs. Tremayne! Mrs. Tremayne!
(<i>He exits</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>through the garden</i>.)</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>rises and moves to the swing doors, stares after him in
amazement. Then he pulls up his sleeve, looks at his scar again and
shakes his head. While he is still puzzling over it</i>, <span class="char">Belinda</span>
<i>comes back</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>crossing below settee</i>). Such a to-do in the kitchen! The
cook's given notice&ndash;at least she will directly&ndash;(<i>up to</i>
<span class="char">Tremayne</span>)&ndash;and your lamb cutlet slipped back to the shop when nobody was
looking</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>looks off at swing doors</i>)</p>

<p>and I've got to go into the village again, (<i>going to the refectory
table and getting her hat</i>) and ok dear, oh dear, I have such a lot
of things to do! (<i>Looking across at</i> <span class="char">Mr. Baxter's</span> <i>door</i>.) Oh yes,
that's another one. (<i>Coming back to table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>and putting down
her hat on <span class="stage">R.</span> side</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Belinda&mdash; (<i>Moving up to her</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. No, not even Belinda. Wait till this evening.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I have a thousand things to say to you; I shall say them this
evening.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>giving him her hand</i>). Begin about eight o'clock. Good-bye
till then.</p>

<p>(<i>He takes her hand, looks at her for a moment, then suddenly bends
and kisses it, takes up his hat and hurries through the swing doors and
off through the garden to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>)</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>stands looking from her hand to him, gives a little
wondering exclamation and then presses the back of her hand against her
cheek, and goes to the swing doors. She turns back, and remembers</i> <span class="char">Mr.
Baxter</span> <i>again. With a smile she goes to the door and taps gently</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Mr. Baxter, Mr. Baxter, you may come in now; he has withdrawn.
(<i>Moves down a little and then back to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of the door again</i>.)
Mr. Baxter, I have unhanded him. (<i>She opens the door and going in,
finds the room empty</i>.) Oh!</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>comes quickly through the swing doors</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>meeting</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>coming out of the cupboard</i>). Ah,
(<i>they both start</i>) there you are! (<i>Crossing down to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>end of</i>
<span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table, he puts down his hat</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>turning with a start</i>). Oh, how you frightened me, Mr.
Baxter! I couldn't think what had happened to you. (<i>She closes the
door</i>.) I thought perhaps you'd been eaten up by one of the
umbrellas.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Mrs. Tremayne, I have some wonderful news for you. I have found
Miss Robinson's father.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>on his</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>, <i>hardly understanding</i>). Miss Bobinson's
father?</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yes. <i>Mr</i>. Robinson.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, you mean&ndash;(<i>Points to direction when <span class="char">Tremayne</span>  has
gone</i>.) Oh yes, he told me his name was Robinson&ndash;Oh, but he's no
relation.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Wait! I saw his arm. By a subterfuge I managed to see his arm.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>her eyes opening more and more widely as she begins to
realize</i>). You saw&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I saw the mole.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>coming down to him faintly as she holds out her own
arm</i>). Show me.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>very decorously indicating</i>). There!</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>holds the place with her other hand, and stitt looking
at</i> <span class="char">Mr. Baxter</span>, <i>slowly begins to laugh&ndash;half-laughter, half-tears,
wonderingly, happily, contentedly</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>moving to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of table and sitting</i>). And I didn't
know!</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving to back of table</i>). Mrs. Tremayne, I am delighted
to have done this service for your niece&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>to herself</i>). Of course, <i>he</i> knew all the time.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>to the world</i>). Still more am I delighted to have gained
the victory over Mr. Devenish in this enterprise.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Eighteen years&ndash;but I <i>ought</i> to have known.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>at large</i>). I shall not be accused of exaggerating when I
say that the odds against such an enterprise were enormous.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Eighteen years&mdash; And now I've eight whole <i>hours</i> to
wait!</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>triumphantly</i>). It will be announced to-night. "Mr.
Devenish," I shall say, "young fellow&ndash;" (<i>He arranges his speech in
his mind</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>nodding to herself mischievously</i>). So I was right, after
all! (<i>Slowly and triumphantly</i>.) He <i>does</i> look better without
a beard!</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>with his hand on the back of the chair on the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>side
of the table</i>). "Mr. Devenish, young fellow, when you matched yourself
against a man of my repute, when you matched yourself against a man&ndash;matched yourself against a man of my repute (<i>crossing towards
fireplace</i>)</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>rises stealthily, takes up her hat and exits through the
swing doors and through the garden up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p>

<p>when you matched yourself against a man who has read papers (<i>moving
towards centre table</i>) at Soirees of the Royal Statistical Society&ndash;"
(<i>Looking round the room, he discovers that he is alone. He picks up 
his hat from the table and jams it down on his head</i>.) Unusual!</p>

<p>(<i>He moves up towards the swing doors</i>.)</p>

<p style="text-align: center; font-variant: small-caps">Curtain.</p>


<h2>Act III</h2>


<p><i>It is after dinner in <span class="char">Belinda's</span> hall. The log fire, chandelier and
wall brackets are all alight</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>is lying on the Chesterfield
with a coffee-cup in her hand</i>. <span class="char">Delia</span>, <i>in the chair down</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>below
the fireplace, has picked up "The Lute of Love" from a table and is
reading it impatiently. She also has a coffee-cup in her hand</i>.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>throwing the book away</i>). What rubbish he writes!</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>coming back from her thoughts</i>). Who, dear?</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Claude</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>gives her a quick look of surprise</i>.)</p>

<p>&ndash;Mr. Devenish. (<i>She rises and stands by the fireplace with her cup
in her hand</i>.) Of course, he's very young.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. So was Keats, darling.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. I don't think Claude has had Keats' advantages. Keats started
life as an apothecary.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. So much nicer than a chemist.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Now, Claude started with nothing to do.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>mildly</i>). Do you always call him Claude, darling? I hope
you aren't going to grow into a flirt like that horrid Mrs. Tremayne.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Silly mother! (<i>She moves to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>, <i>takes her cup, 
then crosses to the table and places both the cups on the table&ndash;seriously</i>.) I don't think he'll ever be any good till he really gets
work. Did you notice his hair this evening?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>dreamily</i>). Whose, dear?</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>going to the back of the Chesterfield and to the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of</i>
<span class="char">Belinda</span>). Mummy, look me in the eye and tell me you are not being bad.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>having playfully turned her head away and hidden her face
with her handkerchief, says innocently</i>). Bad, darling?</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>moving down to the front of the fireplace</i>). You've made
Mr. Robinson fall in love with you.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>happily</i>). Have I?</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Yes; it's serious this time. He's not like the other two.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. However did you know that?</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh, I know.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Darling, I believe you've grown up. It's quite time I settled
down.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. With Mr. Robinson?</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>sits up and looks thoughtfully at</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>for a little
time</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>mysteriously</i>). Delia, are you prepared for a great
secret to be revealed to you?</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>childishly and jumping on to the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>arm of the
Chesterfield facing</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). Oh, I love secrets.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>reproachfully</i>). Darling, you mustn't take it like that.
This is a great, deep, dark secret; you'll probably need your sal
volatile.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>excitedly</i>). Go on!</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well&mdash; (<i>Looking round the room</i>.) Shall we have the
lights down a little?</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Go on, mummy.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, Mr. Robinson is&ndash;(<i>impressively</i>)&ndash;is not quite the 
Robinson he appears to be.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Yes?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. In fact, child, he is&mdash; Darling, hadn't you better come and
hold your mother's hand?</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>struggling with some emotion and placing her hand on</i>
<span class="char">Belinda's</span> <i>arm, who playfully smacks it</i>). Go on.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, Mr. Robinson is a&ndash;sort of relation of yours; in fact&ndash;(<i>playing with her rings and looking down coyly</i>)&ndash;he is your&ndash;father. (<i>She looks up at</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>to see how the news is being
received</i>.) (<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>gives a happy laugh</i>.)</p>

<p>Dear one, this is not a matter for mirth.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Darling, it is lovely, isn't it? (<i>Sliding down to the seat of
the Chesterfield next to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>, <i>who moves along to make room
for her</i>.) I am laughing because I am so happy.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Aren't you surprised?</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. No. You see, Claude told me this morning. (<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>displays
annoyance</i>.) He found out just before Mr. Baxter.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well!  Every one seems to have known except me.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Didn't you see how friendly father and I got at dinner? I thought
I'd better start breaking the ice&ndash;because I suppose he'll be kissing me
directly.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Say you like him.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. I think he's going to be awfully nice. (<i>She kisses</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>
<i>and rises</i>.) Does he <i>know</i> you know?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Not yet.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh! (<i>She moves to the fireplace and warms her hands</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Just at present I've rather got Mr. Baxter on my mind. I
suppose, darling, you wouldn't like him as well as Mr. Devenish!
(<i>Pathetically</i>.) You see, they're so used to going about together.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Claude is quite enough.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I think I must see Mr. Baxter and get it over. Do you mind if I
have Mr. Devenish too? I feel more at home with both of them. I'll give
you him back. Oh dear, I feel so happy to-night! (<i>She jumps up and
goes to</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.) And is my little girl going to be happy too? That's
what mothers always say on the stage. I think it's so sweet.</p>

<p>(<i>They move together to below table</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>smiling at her</i>). Yes, I think so, mummy. Of course, I'm
not romantic like you. I expect I'm more like father, really.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>dreamily</i>). Jack can be romantic now. He was telling me
this morning all about the people he has proposed to. I mean, I was
telling him. Anyhow, he wasn't a bit like a father. Of course, he
doesn't know he is a father yet. Darling, I think you might take him
into the garden; only don't let him know who he is. You see, he ought to
propose to me first, oughtn't he?</p>

<p>(<i>The men come in from</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>goes to the foot of the
settee <span class="stage">R.</span>, <span class="char">Devenish</span> to the back of the table up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>while</i>
<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>stands at the back of the settee</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>moves to the
front of the settee and <span class="char">Delia</span> sits on the table</i>.)</p>

<p>Here you all are! I do hope you haven't been throwing away your cigars,
because smoking is allowed all over the house.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>as he comes to the foot of the settee</i>). Oh, we've
finished, thank you.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>going up to the swing doors and opening them</i>). Isn't it
a wonderful night?&ndash;and so warm for April. Delia, you must show Mr.
Robinson the garden by moonlight&ndash;it's the only light he hasn't seen it
by.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>quickly coming to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>back of table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>). I don't
think I've ever seen it by moonlight, Miss Delia.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>coming down a little</i>). I thought poets were always
seeing things by moonlight.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving toward</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). I was hoping, Mrs. Tremayne,
that&ndash;er&ndash;perhaps&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>moving quickly to above</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>and taking his</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>
<i>hand, and pulling him up stage to swing doors</i>). Come along, Mr.
Robinson.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>looks at</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>, <i>who gives him a nod</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span>
<i>then moves down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>). It's very kind of you, Miss Robinson. I
suppose there is no chance of a nightingale?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. There ought to be. I ordered one specially for Mr. Devenish.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>go out together</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span>, <i>with a
sigh, moves over to the Chesterfield and settles herself comfortably
into it</i>. <span class="char">Devenish</span>, <i>annoyed by</i> <span class="char">Tremayne's</span> <i>attentions to</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>,
<i>crosses up angrily and looks off through the window up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>above
fireplace, then comes down</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of the Chesterfield to the front
of the fireplace</i>. <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>moves up to the swing doors angrily watching</i>
<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>, <i>then moves to the window</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and looks off</i>.
<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>then enters with a salver from</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>She moves by the back of
the settee to the back of the table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>, <i>picks up the coffee-cups and
goes out</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>then moves over to the window facing the audience,
up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>He looks off, then comes down to the</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>.)</p>

<p>Now we're together again. Well, Mr. Devenish?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Er&ndash;I&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. No; I think I'll let Mr. Baxter speak first. I know he's
longing to.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>leaning on the back of the chair</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of table&ndash;he
clears his throat</i>). H'r'm! Mrs. Tremayne, I beg formally to claim
your hand.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>sweetly</i>). On what grounds, Mr. Baxter?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>spiritedly</i>). Yes, sir, on what grounds?</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>coming to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of Chesterfield, close to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>).
On the grounds that, as I told you this morning, I had succeeded in the
quest.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>appearing to be greatly surprised</i>). Succeeded?</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yes, Mr. Devenish, young fellow, you have lost. (<i>He moves a
few paces</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>to below the chair</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of the table</i>.) I have
discovered the missing Mr. Robinson.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>wiping hit brow and coming to</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>). Who&ndash;where&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>dramatically</i>). Miss Robinson has at this moment gone out
with her father.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>placing his hands heavily on</i> <span class="char">Baxter's</span> <i>shoulders, who
staggers</i>). Good heavens! It was he!</p>

<p>(<i><span class="char">Baxter</span> pats</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>sympathetically and moves to the back of
the Chesterfield and is about to speak to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>. <i>She, however,
silences him and he drops down to the front of the fireplace</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>sympathetically</i>). Poor Mr. Devenish!</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>pointing tragically to the table</i>). And to think that I
actually sat on that table&ndash;no, that seat (<i>he points to the
settee</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>then he moves up stage between it and the table</i>)&ndash;that I sat there with him this morning, and never guessed! Why, ten
minutes ago I was asking him for the nuts!</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Aha, Devenish, you're not so clever as you thought you were.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>coming quickly to the back of the chair</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of the
table</i>). Why, I must have given you the clue myself! He told me he
had a scar on his arm, and I never thought any more of it. And then I
went away innocently and left you two talking about it.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>alarmed</i>). A scar on his arm?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Where a lion mauled him.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>gives a little cry and shudder</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. It's quite healed up now, Mrs. Tremayne.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>looking at him admiringly</i>). A lion! What you two have
adventured for my sake!</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I suppose you will admit, Devenish, that I may fairly claim to
have won?</p>

<p>(<i>Looking the picture of despair</i>, <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>drops down</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>
<i>of the chair, droops his head, raises his arms and lets them fall
hopelessly to his sides</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Mr. Devenish, I have never admired you so much as I do at this
moment. (<i>She extends her</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>hand to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>, <i>who gropes
for it with his</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>hand and eventually manages to seize it</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>noticing he is holding her hand, moving to them and looking
at them quizzically&ndash;indignantly to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>). I say, you know,
that's not fair. It's all very well to take your defeat like a man, but
you mustn't overdo it. (<i>They release their hands</i>.) Mrs. Tremayne,
I claim the reward which I have earned.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>after a pause and rising</i>). Mr. Baxter&ndash;Mr. Devenish, I
have something to tell you.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>moves to her</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>kneels upon the Chesterfield facing them. Penitently</i>.) I
have not been quite frank with you. I think you both ought to know that&ndash;I&ndash;I made a mistake. Delia is not my niece; she is my daughter. (<i>She
buries her face in her hands</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Your daughter! I say, how ripping!</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>gives him an understanding look</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Your daughter!</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. But&ndash;but you aren't old enough to have a daughter of that age.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>apologetically</i>). Well, there she is.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. But&ndash;but she's grown up.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Quite.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Then in that case you must be&ndash;(<i>He hesitates, evidently
working it out</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>hastily</i>). I'm afraid so, Mr. Baxter.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. But this makes a great difference. I had no idea. Why, when I'm
fifty you would be&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>sighing</i>). Yes, I suppose I should.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. And when I'm sixty&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>pleadingly to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>). Can't you stop him?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>with a threatening gesture</i>). Look here, Baxter, another
word from you and you'll never <i>get</i> to sixty.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. And then there's Miss&ndash;er&ndash;Delia. In the event of our marrying,
Mrs. Tremayne, she, I take it, would be my step-daughter.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I don't think she would trouble us much, Mr. Baxter. (<i>With a
sly look at</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>.) I have an idea that she will be getting
married before long. (<i>She again glances at</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>, <i>who
returns her look gratefully</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>into the inner room</i>). None the less,
the fact would be disturbing.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>with a wink at</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>crosses in front of her and
warms his hands at the fire</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>watches</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>over
the back of the Chesterfield</i>.)</p>

<p>I have never yet considered myself seriously as a step-father.
(<i>Moving  round the refectory table</i>.) I don't think I am going too
far if I say that to some extent I have been deceived in this matter.
(<i>He comes down to behind the</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>reproachfully</i>). And so have I. I thought you loved me.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>sympathetically</i>). Yes, yes.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>turning to him suddenly</i>). And Mr. Devenish too.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). Er&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Er&mdash;</p>

<p>(<i>They stand before her guiltily and have nothing to say</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with a shrug</i>). Well, I shall have to marry somebody
else, that's all.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving to below table</i>). Who? Who?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I suppose Mr. Robinson. After all, if I am Delia's mother, and
Mr. Baxter says that Mr. Robinson's her father, it's about time we
<i>were</i> married.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>eagerly</i>). Mrs. Tremayne, what fools we are! He
<i>is</i> your husband all the time!</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving up to the</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). You've had a
husband all the time?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>apologetically</i>). I lost him; it wasn't my fault.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Really, this is very confusing. I don't know where I am. I
gather&ndash;I am to gather, it seems, that you are no longer eligible as a
possible wife?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I am afraid not, Mr. Baxter.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. But this is very confusing&ndash;(<i>moving towards the swing
doors</i>)&ndash;this is very disturbing to a man of my age. For weeks past I
have been regarding myself as a&ndash;a possible benedict. I have&ndash;ah&ndash;taken
steps. (<i>Back to the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>end of the</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table</i>.) Only this morning,
in writing to my housekeeper, I warned her that she might hear at
any moment a most startling announcement.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>cheerfully</i>). Oh, that's all right. That might only mean
that you were getting a new bowler-hat.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>dropping down</i> <span class="stage">L.C.</span> <i>a few steps&ndash;suddenly</i>). Ah, and
what about you, sir? How is it that you take this so lightly?
(<i>Triumphantly</i>.) I have it. It all becomes clear to me. You have
transferred your affections to her daughter!</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Oh, I say, Baxter, this is very crude.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. And why should he not, Mr. Baxter? (<i>Softly</i>.) He has made
me very happy.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>staggered</i>). He has made you happy, Mrs. Tremayne!</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Very happy.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>thoughtfully</i>). Oh! Oh ho! Oh ho! (<i>He takes a turn up
the room into the inner room, muttering to himself</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span>
<i>kneels and watches him over the back of the Chesterfield. Then he
comes down again to her</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>side</i>.) Mrs. Tremayne, I have taken
a great resolve. (<i>Solemnly</i>.) I also will make you happy.
(<i>Thumping  his heart</i>.) I also will woo Miss Delia.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh!</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Look here, Baxter&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>suddenly crossing and seizing</i> <span class="char">Devenish's</span> <i>arm and
pulling him towards the siding doors up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>between the Chesterfield
and the table</i>). Come, we will seek Miss Delia together.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>seizes</i> <span class="char">Devenish's</span> <i>hand as he is passing and he, clinging
to it, nearly pulls her off the Chesterfield. She is very amused</i>.)</p>

<p>It may be that she will send us upon another quest in which I shall
again be victorious.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>releases her hand and slips down into the Chesterfield.
Tempestuously</i>.)</p>

<p>Come, I say&mdash;</p>

<p>(<i>He marches the resisting</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>to the swing doors</i>.)</p>

<p>Let us put it to the touch, to win or lose it all.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>turning and appealing to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). Please!</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>gently</i>). Mr. Baxter... Harold.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>stops and turns round</i>.)</p>

<p>You are too impetuous. I think that as Delia's mother&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>coming down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>to the foot of the</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>
<i>table</i>). Your pardon, Mrs. Tremayne. In the intoxication of the
moment I am forgetting. (<i>Formally</i>.) I have the honour to ask your
permission to pay my addresses&ndash;(<i>Moves to chair</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of table</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. No, no, I didn't mean that. But, as Delia's mother, I ought to
warn you that she is hardly fitted to take the place of your
housekeeper. She is not very domesticated.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>indignantly</i>). Not domesticated? (<i>Sits</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of
table</i>.) Why, did I not hear her tell her father at dinner that she
had arranged all the flowers?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. There are other things than flowers.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>on</i> <span class="char">Baxter's</span> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>behind the table</i>). Bed-socks,
for instance, Baxter.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>is annoyed</i>.)</p>

<p>It's a very tricky thing airing bed-socks. I am sure your house-keeper&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>silencing</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>). Mrs. Tremayne, she will learn. The
daughter of such a mother... I need say no more.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, thank you. But there is something else, Mr. Baxter. You are
not being quite fair to yourself. In starting out upon this simultaneous
wooing, you forget that Mr. Devenish has already had his turn&ndash;(<span class="char">Devenish</span>
<i>tries to stop her</i>. <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>turns round and nearly catches
him</i>.)&ndash;this morning alone. You should have yours ... alone ... too.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Oh, I say!</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yes, yes, you are right. I must introduce myself first as a
suitor. I see that. (<i>Rising, to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>.) You stay here;
<i>I</i> will go alone into the garden, and&ndash;(<i>Moving below table and
up to the swing doors</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. It is perhaps a little cold out of doors for people of ... of
our age, Mr. Baxter. Now, in the library&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>at the swing doors, turning to her, astonished</i>). Library?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>a little</i>). You have a library?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>). He doesn't believe I have a library.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. You ought to see the library, Baxter.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving more down to below</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of table</i>). But you
are continually springing surprises on me this evening, Mrs. Tremayne.
First a daughter, then a husband, and then&ndash;a library! I have been here
three weeks, and I never knew you had a library. Dear me, I wonder how
it is that I never saw it?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>modestly, rising</i>). I thought you came to see <i>me</i>.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yes, yes, to see you, certainly. But if I had known you had a
library ....</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, I am so glad I mentioned it. Wasn't it lucky, Mr. Devenish?</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. My work has been greatly handicapped of late.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>enter the garden from up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>and
pass the window at the back</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>sweetly</i>). By me?</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I was about to say by lack of certain books to which I wanted to
refer. It would be a great help. (<i>He moves up R, reflectively
muttering "Library."</i>)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>moving below and to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table</i>). My
dear Mr. Baxter, my whole library is at your disposal. (<i>She turns
to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>, <i>who is on her</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>, <i>and at the back of the table.
She speaks in a confidential whisper</i>.) I'm just going to show him
the Encyclopedia Britannica. (<i>She moves below the settee to the door</i>
<span class="stage">R.</span>) You won't mind waiting&ndash;Delia will be in directly.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span>, <i>still muttering "Library," crosses to the door and opens it
for her. She goes out and he follows her</i>. <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>moves to the
<span class="stage">R.</span> of the swing doors and welcomes</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>. <span class="char">Tremayne</span>
<i>enters from the portico and holds open the swing doors for</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>speaking from the portico</i>). Hullo, we're just coming in.</p>

<p>(<i>They enter and</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>moves down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of the
table</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Where's Mrs. Tremayne?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>moving to down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>). She's gone to the library with
Baxter.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>coming down on</i> <span class="char">Delia's</span> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>side&ndash;carelessly</i>). Oh,
the library. Where's that?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>promptly going towards the door, opening it and standing
above it</i>). The end door on the right.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>sits on the</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>end of the table facing</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p>

<p>Right at the end. You can't mistake it. On the right.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Ah, yes. (<i>He looks round at</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>, <i>who points
significantly at the door twice</i>.) Yes. (<i>He looks at</i>
<span class="char">Devenish</span>.) Yes. (<i>He goes out</i>.)</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>hastily shuts the door and comes back to</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I say, your mother is a ripper.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>enthusiastically</i>). Isn't she! (<i>Remembering</i>.) At
least, you mean my aunt?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>smiling at her</i>). No, I mean your mother. To think that
I once had the cheek to propose to her.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh! Is it cheek to propose to people!</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. To <i>her</i>.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. But not to me?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Oh I say, Delia!</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>with great dignity</i>). Thank you, my name is Miss Robinson&ndash;I mean, Tremayne.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Well, if you're not quite sure which it is, it's much safer to
call you Delia.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>smiling</i>). Well, perhaps it is.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. And if I did propose to you, you haven't answered</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>sitting in the chair</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of the table</i>). If you want
an answer  now, it's no; but if you like to wait till next April&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>moving up to behind table&ndash;reproachfully</i>). Oh, I say,
and I cut my hair for you the same afternoon. (<i>Turning quickly</i>.)
You haven't really told me how you like it yet.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh, how bad of me! You look lovely.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>sitting at back of the table</i>). And I promised to give
up poetry for your sake.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Perhaps I oughtn't to have asked you that.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. As far as I'm concerned, Delia, I'll do it gladly, but, of
course, one has to think about posterity.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. But you needn't be a poet. You could give posterity plenty to
think about if you were a statesman.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I don't quite see your objection to poetry.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. You would be about the house so much. I want you to go away every
day and do great things, and then come home in the evening and tell me
all about it.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Then you <i>are</i> thinking of marrying me!</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Well, I was just thinking in case I had to.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>he rises and taking her hands, raises her from the chair.
She backs a step to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>). Do. It would be rather fun if you did. And
look  here&ndash;(<i>he pulls her gently back. They both sit on the table. He
places his arm round her waist</i>)&ndash;I <i>will</i> be a statesman, if
you like, and go up to Downing Street every day, and come back in the
evening and tell  you all about it.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. How nice of you!</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>magnificently, holding up his</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>hand to
Heaven</i>). Farewell, Parnassus!</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>pulling down his hand</i>). What does that mean?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Well, it means that I've chucked poetry. A statesman's  life
is the life for me; behold Mr. Devenish, the new M.P.&ndash;(<i>she holds up
her</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>hand admonishingly and he laughs apologetically</i> )&ndash;no,
look here, that was quite accidental.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>smiling at him</i>). I believe I shall really like you when I
get to know you.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I don't know if it's you, or Devonshire, or the fact that I've
had my hair cut, but I feel quite a different being from what I was
three days ago.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. You <i>are</i> different. (<i>They both rise from the table.  She
pulls him to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>one step</i>.) Perhaps it's your sense of humour 
coming back.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Perhaps that's it. It's a curious feeling.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>pulling him towards the swing doors</i>). Let's go outside;
there's a heavenly moon.</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Moon? Moon? Now where have I heard that word before?</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. What <i>do</i> you mean?</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I was trying not to be a poet.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>opens the doors</i>.)</p>

<p>Well, I'll come with you, but I shall refuse to look at it. (<i>Putting
his</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>hand behind his back, he walks slowly out with her, saying
to himself</i>) The Prime Minister then left the House.</p>

<p>(<i>They cross the windows at the back and go off</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>)</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>come from the library, the latter
holding the door for her to pass</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>moving below the settee across the room</i>). Thank you. I
don't think it's unkind to leave him, do you? He seemed quite happy.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>following her</i>). I shouldn't have been happy if we'd
stayed.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>reaching the Chesterfield she puts her feet up. Her head it
towards</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>). Yes, but I was really thinking of Mr. Baxter.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>above table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>). Not of me?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, I thought it was Mr. Baxter's turn. Poor man, he's had a
disappointment lately.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>coming to <span class="stage">R.</span> of the Chesterfield&ndash;eagerly</i>). A
disappointment?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, he thought I was&ndash;younger than I was.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>smiling to himself</i>). How old are you, Belinda?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>dropping her eyes</i>). Twenty-two. (<i>After a pause</i>.)
He thought I was eighteen. Such a disappointment!</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>smiling openly at her</i>). Belinda, how old are you?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Just about the right age, Mr. Robinson.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. The right age for what?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. For this sort of conversation.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Shall I tell you how old you are?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Do you mean in figures or&ndash;poetically?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I meant&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Mr. Devenish said I was as old as the&ndash;now, I must get this the
right way round&ndash;as old as the&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I don't want to talk about Mr. Devenish.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with a sigh</i>). Nobody ever does&ndash;except Mr. Devenish. As
old as the stars, and as young as the dawn. (<i>Settling herself
cosily</i>.) I think that's rather a nice age to be, don't you?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. A very nice age to be.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. It's a pity he's thrown me over for Delia; I shall miss that
sort of thing rather. You don't say those sort of things about your
aunt-in-law&ndash;not so often.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>eagerly</i>). He really is in love with Miss Robinson!</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh yes. I expect he is out in the moonlight with her now,
comparing her to Diana.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Well, that accounts for <i>him</i>. Now what about Baxter?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I thought I told you. Deeply disappointed to find that I was
four years older than he expected, Mr. Baxter hurried from the drawing-room and buried himself in a column of the <i>Encyclopedia Britannica</i>.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Well, that settles Baxter. Are there any more men in the
neighbourhood?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>shaking her head</i>). Isn't it awful? I've only had those
two for the last three weeks.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>sits on the back of the Chesterfield and looks down at
her</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Belinda.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, Henry!</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. My name is John.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, you never told me. I had to guess. Everybody thinks they
can call me Belinda without giving me the least idea what their own
names are. You were saying, John?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. My friends call me Jack.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Jack Robinson. That's the man who always goes away so quickly.
I hope you're making more of a stay?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>seizing her by both arms</i>). Oh, you maddening, maddening
woman!</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, I have to keep the conversation going. You do nothing but
say "Belinda."</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>taking her hand</i>). Have you ever loved anybody
seriously, Belinda?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I don't ever do anything very seriously. The late Mr. Tremayne,
my first husband&ndash;Jack&mdash; Isn't it funny, <i>his</i> name was Jack&ndash;he
used to complain about it too sometimes.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>with conviction</i>). Silly ass!</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Ah, I think you are a little hard on the late Mr. Tremayne.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Belinda, I want you to marry me and forget about him.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>happily to herself and lying back</i>). This is the proposal
that those lamb cutlets interrupted this morning.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Belinda, I love you&ndash;do you understand?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Suppose my first husband turns up suddenly like&ndash;like E. A.?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Like who?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, like anybody.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. He won't&ndash;I know he won't. Don't you love me enough to risk
it, Belinda?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I haven't really said I love you at all yet.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Well, say it now.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>looks at him, and then down again</i>.)</p>

<p>You do! Well, I'm going to have a kiss, anyway, (<i>He kisses her
quickly&ndash;moves to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of Chesterfield</i>.) There!</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>rising</i>). O-oh I The late Mr. Tremayne never did that.
(<i>She powders her nose</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I have already told you that he was a silly ass. (<i>He makes
a move as if to kiss her again</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>holding up her hand and sitting on the</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>side of the
Chesterfield</i>). I shall scream for Mr. Baxter.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>sitting down on the Chesterfield, on her</i> L, <i>side</i>.)
Belinda&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, Henry&ndash;I mean, Jack?</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Do you know who I am! (<i>He is thoroughly enjoying the
surprise he is about to give her</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>nodding</i>). Yes, Jack.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Who?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Jack Tremayne.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>jumping up</i>). Good heavens, you <i>know</i>!</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>gently</i>). Yes, Jack.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>angrily</i>). You've known all the time that I was your
husband, and you've been playing with me and leading me on.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>mildly</i>). Well, darling, you knew all the time that I was
your wife, and you've been making love to me and leading me on.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. That's different.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>to herself</i>). That's just what the late Mr. Tremayne
said, and then he slammed the door and went straight off to the Rocky
Mountains and shot bears; and I didn't see him again for eighteen years.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>remorsefully</i>). Darling, I was a fool then, and I'm a
fool now.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I was a fool then, but I'm not such a fool now&ndash;I'm not going
to let you go. It's quite time I married and settled down.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. You darling I (<i>He kisses her</i>.) How did you find out who
I was?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>awkwardly</i>). Well, it was rather curious, darling.
(<i>After a pause</i>.) It was April, and I felt all sort of Aprily,
and&ndash;and&ndash;there was the garden all full of daffodils&ndash;and&ndash;and there was
Mr. Baxter&ndash;the one we left in the library&ndash;knowing all about moles.
He's probably got the M. volume down now. Well, we were talking about
them one day, and I happened to say that the late Mr. Tremayne&ndash;that was
you, darling&ndash;had rather a peculiar one on his arm. And then he happened
to see it this morning and told me about it.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. What an extraordinary story!</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, darling; it's really much more extraordinary than that. I
think perhaps I'd better tell you the rest of it another time.
(<i>Coaxingly</i>.) Now show me where the nasty lion scratched you.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>pulls up his sleeve</i>.) Oh! (<i>She kisses his arm</i>.)
You shouldn't have left Chelsea, darling.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I should never have found you if I hadn't.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>squeezing his arm</i>). No, Jack, you wouldn't. (<i>After a
pause</i>.) I&ndash;I've got another little surprise for you if&ndash;if you're
ready for it. (<i>Standing up and moving to the chair</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of the
table</i>.) Properly speaking, I ought to be wearing white. I shall
certainly stand up while I'm telling you. (<i>Modestly</i>.) Darling, we
have a daughter&ndash;our little Delia. (<i>He is standing in front of the
fireplace</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Delia? You said her name was Robinson.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, darling, but you said yours was. One always takes one's
father's name. Unless, of course, you were Lord Robinson.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. But you said her name was Robinson before you&mdash;</p>

<p>(<i>She makes a playful move</i>.)</p>

<p>&ndash;Oh, never mind about that. A daughter? Belinda, how could you let me
go and not tell me?</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. You forget how you'd slammed the door. It isn't the sort of
thing you shout through the window to a man on his way to America.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>taking her in his arms</i>). Oh, Belinda, don't let me ever
go away again.</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>enter from up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>and pass the
windows on the way to the swing doors</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I'm not going to, Jack. I'm going to settle down into a staid
old married woman.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Oh no, you're not. You're going on just as you did before. And
I'm going to propose to you every April, and win you, over all the other
men in love with you.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. You darling! (<i>They embrace</i>.)</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>come in from the garden</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>quietly to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). Our daughter.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>going up to</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>). You're my father.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. If you don't mind very much, Delia.</p>

<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. You've been away a long time.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I'll do my best to make up for it.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Delia, darling, I think you might kiss your poor old father.</p>

<p>(<i>As the does to</i>, <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>suddenly and hastily kisses</i>
<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>on the cheek</i>.)</p>

<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Just in case you're going to be my mother-in-law.</p>

<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. We seem to be rather a family party.</p>

<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>suddenly</i>). There! (<i>Moving to the door</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>) We've
forgotten Mr. Baxter again.</p>

<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>who has come in quietly with a book in his hand</i>). Oh, don't mind
about me, Mrs. Tremayne. I've enjoyed myself immensely. (<i>He crosses to
the arm-chair below the fireplace and places it in front of the fire</i>.)</p>

<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>move up into the inner room by the
refectory table and embrace, their backs to</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>. <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and</i>
<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>are by the swing doors. They also embrace, their backs to</i>
<span class="char">Baxter</span>.)</p>

<p>(<i>Referring to his book</i>.) I have been collecting some most valuable
information on (looking round at them and sitting in the arm-chair and
continuing to read) lunacy in the&ndash;er&ndash;county of Devonshire.</p>

<p>(<i>The</i> <span style="font-variant: small-caps">Curtain</span> <i>falls</i>.)</p>



<pre>

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