DEVENISH (throwing away the flower and bowing very low). My lady.
(BAXTER rises quickly.)
BAXTER (removing his bowler–hat stiffly). Good afternoon, Mrs. Tremayne.
(She gives her left hand to DEVENISH, who kisses it, and her right to BAXTER, who shakes it.)
BELINDA. How nice of you both to come!
BAXTER. Mr. Devenish and I are inseparable—apparently.
BELINDA. You haven't told me what you were doing, Mr. Devenish. Was it (plucking an imaginary flower) "This year, next year?" or "Silk, satin—"
DEVENISH. 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. (Dances round imitating the hornpipe.)
BELINDA (to BAXTER). Doesn't he talk nonsense?
BAXTER. He'll grow out of it. I did.
BELINDA (moving down R. and then to centre towards hammock). Oh, I hope not. I love talking nonsense, and I'm ever so old. (As they both start forward to protest.) Now which one of you will say it first?
DEVENISH. You are as old as the stars and as young as the dawn.
BAXTER. You are ten years younger than I am.
BELINDA. What sweet things to say! I don't know which I like best.
DEVENISH. Where will my lady sit!
BELINDA (with an exaggerated curtsy). I will recline in the hammock, an it please thee, my lord―—
(BAXTER goes to the right of the hammock, saying "Allow me." DEVENISH moves to the left of the hammock and holds it, takes up a cushion which BAXTER snatches from him and places in hammock again.)
—only it's rather awkward getting in, Mr. Baxter. Perhaps you'd both better look at the tulips for a moment.
BAXTER. Oh—ah—yes. (Crosses down R., turns his back to the hammock and examines the flowers.)
DEVENISH (leaning over her). If only―—
BELINDA. You'd better not say anything, Mr. Devenlsh. Keep it for your next volume. (He turns away and examines flowers on L. She sits on hammock.) One, two, three—(throws her legs over)— that was better than last time. (They turn round to see her safely in the hammock. DEVENISH leans against the L. tree at her feet, and BAXTER 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 wonder if either of you can guess what I've been reading this afternoon!
DEVENISH (looking at her lovingly). I know.
BELINDA (giving him a fleeting look). How did you know?
DEVENISH. Well, I―–
BELINDA (to BAXTER). Yes, Mr. Baxter, it was your article I was reading. If you'd come five minutes earlier you'd have found me wrestling—I mean revelling in it.
BAXTER. I am very greatly honoured, Mrs. Tremayne. Ah—it seemed to me a very interesting curve showing the rise and fall of―–
BELINDA. I hadn't got up to the curves. They are interesting, aren't they? They are really more in Mr. Devenish's line. (To DEVENISH.) Mr. Devenish, it was a great disappointment to me that all the poems in your book seemed to be written to somebody else.
DEVENISH. 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.
BELINDA. And discovered she was dark and not fair.
DEVENISH. She will be dark in my next volume.
BELINDA. Oh, how nice of her!
BAXTER (kindly). You should write a real poem to Mrs. Tremayne.
BELINDA (excitedly). Oh do! "To Belinda." I don't know what rhymes, except cinder. You could say your heart was like a cinder—all burnt up.
DEVENISH (pained). Oh, my lady, I'm afraid that is a cockney rhyme.
BELINDA. How thrilling! I've never been to Hampstead Heath.
DEVENISH. "Belinda." It is far too beautiful to rhyme with anything but itself.
BELINDA. Fancy! But what about Tremayne? (Singing.) Oh, I am Mrs. Tremayne, and I don't want to marry again.
DEVENISH (protesting). My lady!
BAXTER (protesting). Belinda!
BELINDA (pointing excitedly to BAXTER). There, that's the first time he's called me Belinda! This naughty boy—(indicating DEVENISH)—is always doing it—by accident.
DEVENISH. Are you serious?
BELINDA. Not as a rule.
DEVENISH. You're not going to marry again?
BELINDA. Well, who could I marry?
DEVENISH and BAXTER (together). Me!
BELINDA (dropping her eyes modestly). But this is England.
BAXTER (rising and taking off his hat, which he places on table, and going up to BELINDA). Mrs. Tremayne, I claim the right of age—of my greater years—to speak first.
DEVENISH. Mrs. Tremayne, I—
BELINDA (kindly to DEVENISH). You can speak afterwards, Mr. Devenish. It's so awkward when you both speak together. (To BAXTER, giving encouragement.) Yes?
BAXTER (moving down a little and then returning to BELINDA). Mrs. Tremayne, I am a man of substantial position—(DEVENISH sniggers— to BAXTER'S great annoyance.) and perhaps I may say of some repute in serious circles.
(DEVENISH sniggers again.)
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.
BELINDA. How sweet of you! But I ought to tell you that I'm no good at figures.
DEVENISH (protesting). My lady—
BELINDA. I don't mean what you mean, Mr. Devenish. You wait till it's your turn. (To BAXTER.) Yes?
BAXTER (very formally). I ask you to marry me, Belinda.
BELINDA (settling herself happily and closing her eyes). O–oh!… Now it's your turn, Mr. Devenish.
DEVENISH (excitedly). Money—thank Heaven, I have no money. Reputation—thank Heaven, I have no reputation.
(BAXTER, very annoyed, moves down and sits on deck–chair.)
What can I offer you? Dreams—nothing but dreams. Come with me and I will show you the world through my dreams. What can I give you? Youth, freedom, beauty—
BAXTER. Debts.
BELINDA (still with her eyes shut). You mustn't interrupt, Mr. Baxter.
DEVENISH (leaning across hammock). Belinda, marry me and I will open your eyes to the beauty of the world. Come to me!
BELINDA (happily). O–oh! You've got such different ways of putting things. How can I choose between you?
DEVENISH. Then you will marry one of us?
BELINDA. You know I really oughtn't to.
BAXTER. I don't see why not.
BELINDA. Well, there's just a little difficulty in the way.
DEVENISH. What is it? I will remove it. For you I could remove anything —yes, even Baxter. (He looks at BAXTER, who is sitting more solidly than ever in his chair.)