DEVENISH. I don't quite see your objection to poetry.
DELIA. 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.
DEVENISH. Then you are thinking of marrying me!
DELIA. Well, I was just thinking in case I had to.
DEVENISH (he rises and taking her hands, raises her from the chair. She backs a step to R.). Do. It would be rather fun if you did. And look here—(he pulls her gently back. They both sit on the table. He places his arm round her waist)—I will 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.
DELIA. How nice of you!
DEVENISH (magnificently, holding up his L. hand to Heaven). Farewell, Parnassus!
DELIA (pulling down his hand). What does that mean?
DEVENISH. Well, it means that I've chucked poetry. A statesman's life is the life for me; behold Mr. Devenish, the new M.P.—(she holds up her L. hand admonishingly and he laughs apologetically )—no, look here, that was quite accidental.
DELIA (smiling at him). I believe I shall really like you when I get to know you.
DEVENISH. 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.
DELIA. You are different. (They both rise from the table. She pulls him to R. one step.) Perhaps it's your sense of humour coming back.
DEVENISH. Perhaps that's it. It's a curious feeling.
DELIA (pulling him towards the swing doors). Let's go outside; there's a heavenly moon.
DEVENISH. Moon? Moon? Now where have I heard that word before?
DELIA. What do you mean?
DEVENISH. I was trying not to be a poet.
(DELIA opens the doors.)
Well, I'll come with you, but I shall refuse to look at it. (Putting his L. hand behind his back, he walks slowly out with her, saying to himself) The Prime Minister then left the House.
(They cross the windows at the back and go off L.)
(BELINDA and TREMAYNE come from the library, the latter holding the door for her to pass.)
BELINDA (moving below the settee across the room). Thank you. I don't think it's unkind to leave him, do you? He seemed quite happy.
TREMAYNE (following her). I shouldn't have been happy if we'd stayed.
BELINDA (reaching the Chesterfield she puts her feet up. Her head it towards L.). Yes, but I was really thinking of Mr. Baxter.
TREMAYNE (above table C.). Not of me?
BELINDA. Well, I thought it was Mr. Baxter's turn. Poor man, he's had a disappointment lately.
TREMAYNE (coming to B. of the Chesterfield—eagerly). A disappointment?
BELINDA. Yes, he thought I was—younger than I was.
TREMAYNE (smiling to himself). How old are you, Belinda?
BELINDA (dropping her eyes). Twenty–two. (After a pause.) He thought I was eighteen. Such a disappointment!
TREMAYNE (smiling openly at her). Belinda, how old are you?
BELINDA. Just about the right age, Mr. Robinson.
TREMAYNE. The right age for what?
BELINDA. For this sort of conversation.
TREMAYNE. Shall I tell you how old you are?
BELINDA. Do you mean in figures or—poetically?
TREMAYNE. I meant―–
BELINDA. Mr. Devenish said I was as old as the—now, I must get this the right way round—as old as the―–
TREMAYNE. I don't want to talk about Mr. Devenish.
BELINDA (with a sigh). Nobody ever does—except Mr. Devenish. As old as the stars, and as young as the dawn. (Settling herself cosily.) I think that's rather a nice age to be, don't you?
TREMAYNE. A very nice age to be.
BELINDA. 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―not so often.
TREMAYNE (eagerly). He really is in love with Miss Robinson!
BELINDA. Oh yes. I expect he is out in the moonlight with her now, comparing her to Diana.
TREMAYNE. Well, that accounts for him. Now what about Baxter?
BELINDA. 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 Encyclopedia Britannica.
TREMAYNE. Well, that settles Baxter. Are there any more men in the neighbourhood?
BELINDA (shaking her head). Isn't it awful? I've only had those two for the last three weeks.
(TREMAYNE sits on the back of the Chesterfield and looks down at her.)
TREMAYNE. Belinda.
BELINDA. Yes, Henry!
TREMAYNE. My name is John.
BELINDA. 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?
TREMAYNE. My friends call me Jack.
BELINDA. Jack Robinson. That's the man who always goes away so quickly. I hope you're making more of a stay?
TREMAYNE (seizing her by both arms). Oh, you maddening, maddening woman!
BELINDA. Well, I have to keep the conversation going. You do nothing but say "Belinda."
TREMAYNE (taking her hand). Have you ever loved anybody seriously, Belinda?
BELINDA. I don't ever do anything very seriously. The late Mr. Tremayne, my first husband—Jack― Isn't it funny, his name was Jack—he used to complain about it too sometimes.
TREMAYNE (with conviction). Silly ass!
BELINDA. Ah, I think you are a little hard on the late Mr. Tremayne.
TREMAYNE. Belinda, I want you to marry me and forget about him.
BELINDA (happily to herself and lying back). This is the proposal that those lamb cutlets interrupted this morning.
TREMAYNE. Belinda, I love you—do you understand?
BELINDA. Suppose my first husband turns up suddenly like—like E. A.?
TREMAYNE. Like who?
BELINDA. Well, like anybody.
TREMAYNE. He won't—I know he won't. Don't you love me enough to risk it, Belinda?
BELINDA. I haven't really said I love you at all yet.
TREMAYNE. Well, say it now.
(BELINDA looks at him, and then down again.)
You do! Well, I'm going to have a kiss, anyway, (He kisses her quickly—moves to L. of Chesterfield.) There!
BELINDA (rising). O–oh I The late Mr. Tremayne never did that. (She powders her nose.)
TREMAYNE. I have already told you that he was a silly ass. (He makes a move as if to kiss her again.)
BELINDA (holding up her hand and sitting on the R. side of the Chesterfield). I shall scream for Mr. Baxter.
TREMAYNE (sitting down on the Chesterfield, on her L, side.) Belinda―
BELINDA. Yes, Henry—I mean, Jack?
TREMAYNE. Do you know who I am! (He is thoroughly enjoying the surprise he is about to give her.)