DEVENISH. They are not for your mistress; they are for Miss Delia.
BETTY. Oh, I beg your pardon, sir. If you will come in, I'll see if I can find her. (She crosses to the door R. and goes away to find DELIA, dosing the door after her.)
(DEVENISH tries a number of poses about the room for himself and hit bouquet. He crosses below the table C. and sits L. 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 L. of the cupboard door at back centre and leans on his elbow against the wall.)
(Enter DELIA from the door R.)
DELIA (shutting the door and going to DEVENISH). Oh, good morning, Mr. Devenish.
Illustration
:
(DEVENISH kisses her hand.)
I'm afraid my—er—aunt is out.
DEVENISH. I know, Miss Delia, I know.
DELIA. She'll be so sorry to have missed you. It is her day for you, isn't it?
DEVENISH. Her day for me?
DELIA. Yes; Mr. Baxter generally comes to–morrow, doesn't he?
DEVENISH (jealously). Miss Delia, if our friendship is to progress at all, it can only be on the distinct understanding that I take no interest whatever (coming to back of table C.) in Mr. Baxter's movements.
DELIA (moving down R. a little). Oh, I'm so sorry; I thought you knew. What lovely flowers! Are they for my aunt?
DEVENISH. To whom does one bring violets? To modest, shrinking, tender youth.
DELIA. I don't think we have anybody here like that.
DEVENISH (with a bow and holding out the violets to her). Miss Delia, they are for you.
DELIA (smelling and taking violets). Oh, how nice of you! But I'm afraid I oughtn't to take them from you under false pretences; I don't shrink.
DEVENISH. A fanciful way of putting it, perhaps. They are none the less for you.
DELIA. Well, it's awfully kind of you. (Puts flowers down. Then she moves up to the cupboard. He follows on her L. and opens the door.) I'm afraid I'm not a very romantic person. (Turning to him in cupboard doorway.) Aunt Belinda does all the romancing in our family.
DEVENISH. Your aunt is a very remarkable woman.
DELIA. She is. Don't you dare to say a word against her. (Takes up a vase from a chair in cupboard and shakes it as if draining it.)
DEVENISH. 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?
DELIA (surprised). Good gracious! and I didn't know anything about it. (Coming down to R. of table with vase.) But what about poor Mr. Baxter?
DEVENISH (stiffly, crossing over to fireplace, very annoyed). I must beg that Mr. Baxter's name be kept out of our conversation.
DELIA (going up to table behind Chesterfield up L.). But I thought Mr. Baxter and you were such friends.
(DELIA takes water carafe from the table and smiles at DEVENISH— which he does not see.)
Do tell me what's happened. (Moving down to R. of table C., she sits and arranges the flowers.) I seem to have lost myself.
DEVENISH (coming to the back of C. table and reclining on it.) 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―
DELIA. Mr. Devenish, you don't say you're proposing to me?
DEVENISH. I am. I feel sure I am. (Leaning towards her.) Delia, I love you.
DELIA. How exciting of you!
DEVENISH (with a modest shrug). It's nothing; I am a poet.
DELIA. You really want to marry me?
DEVENISH. Such is my earnest wish.
DELIA. But what about my aunt?
DEVENISH (simply). She will be my aunt–in–law.
DELIA. She'll be rather surprised.
DEVENISH. Delia, I will be frank with you. (Sits.) I admit that I made Mrs. Tremayne an offer of marriage.
DELIA (excitedly). You really did? Was it that first afternoon I came?
DEVENISH. Yes.
DELIA. Oh, I wish I'd been there!
DEVENISH (with dignity, rising and moving to L. of table). 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.
DELIA. What did she say?
DEVENISH. She accepted me conditionally.
DELIA. Oh, do tell me!
DEVENISH. 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.
DELIA. How sweet of her!
DEVENISH. 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 (banging the table with his hand) win.
DELIA. What was the condition?
DEVENISH. That I am not at liberty to tell.
DELIA. Oh!
DEVENISH. It is, I understand, to be a surprise for you.
DELIA. How exciting! (Rising and taking vase of violets which she places up R.) Mr. Devenish, you have been very frank (coming to front of settee R. and sitting). May I be equally so?
(DEVENISH crosses to her and bows in acquiescence.) Why do you wear your hair so long?
DEVENISH (pleased). You have noticed it?
DELIA. Well, yes, I have.
DEVENISH. I wear it so to express my contempt for the conventions of so–called society. DELIA. I always thought that people wore it very very short if they despised the conventions of society.
DEVENISH. I think that the mere fact that my hair annoys Mr. Baxter is sufficient justification for its length.
DELIA. But if it annoys me too?
DEVENISH (heroically). It shall go. (Sits on settee above DELIA.)
(BELINDA enters from up L. with a garden basket supposed to contain cutlets. She crosses the windows at back.)
DELIA (apologetically). I told you I wasn't a very romantic person, didn't I? (Kindly.) You can always grow it again if you fall in love with somebody else.
DEVENISH. That is cruel of you, Delia. I shall never fall in love again.
(Enter BELINDA through swing doors B.C.)
BELINDA. Why, it's Mr. Devenish!
(DEVENISH rises and kisses her hand somewhat sheepishly.)