Chapter 2

_It is morning in_ BELINDA'S _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_ C. _is a door leading to a small room where hats and coats are kept. A door on the_ L. _leads towards the living-rooms_.

DEVENISH _enters from up_ L. _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_ R.C. BETTY _enters_ R. _and moves up at back of settee_ R. _to_ DEVENISH _by the swing doors. He is carrying a large bunch of violets and adopts a very aesthetic attitude_.

BETTY. Good morning, sir.

DEVENISH. 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.

BETTY. Yes, sir.

DEVENISH (_holding up his bouquet to_ BETTY). See, the dew is yet lingering upon them; how could I let them wait until this afternoon?

BETTY. Yes, sir; but I think the mistress is out.

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.

(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_.)

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

DEVENISH (_annoyed and crossing behind_ BELINDA _to her_ L.). I do not know, Mrs. Tremayne.

BELINDA (_coming down to_ DELIA _and sitting in the place vacated by DEVENISH_). I got most of the things, Delia. (_To_ DEVENISH.) "The things," Mr. Devenish, is my rather stuffy way of referring to all the delightful poems that you are going to eat to-night.

DEVENISH. I am looking forward to it immensely, Mrs. Tremayne.

BELINDA. I do hope I've got all your and Mr. Baxter's favourite dishes.

DEVENISH (_annoyed and, moving to_ L. _foot of table_ C.). I'm afraid Mr. Baxter and I are not likely to appreciate the same things.

BELINDA (_coyly_). Oh, Mr. Devenish! And you were so unanimous a few days ago.

DELIA. I think Mr. Devenish was referring entirely to things to eat.

BELINDA. 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.

(DELIA _rises, goes to table and picks up water carafe which she replaces on refectory table up_ L.)

We must keep some surprises for him.

DELIA (_to_ DEVENISH _as she crosses back to table_ R. _and picks up the flowers_). Come along, Mr. Devenish.

BELINDA (_wickedly_). Are those my flowers, Mr. Devenish?

DEVENISH (_advancing to_ BELINDA _and laughing awkwardly, after a little hesitation, with a bow which might refer to either of them_). They are for the most beautiful lady in the land.

BELINDA. Oh, how nice of you!

(DEVENISH _crosses to door_ R. _and opens it for_ DELIA, _who follows him and exits_. DEVENISH, _standing above door, catches BELINDA'S eye and with an awkward laugh follows_ DELIA.)

BELINDA. I suppose he means Delia--bless them! (_She kisses her hand towards the door_ R. _She then rises and crosses below the table_ C., _placing her basket on the_ L. _end of it, to the fireplace. She rings the bell. Then she moves up on the_ R. _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 BETTY enters from door_ R. _and crosses the room towards_ C.)

BELINDA (_pointing to basket on the_ C. _table_). Oh, Betty--

(BETTY _moves to back of_ C. _table and takes up the basket. Crosses above settee and exits through door_ R. BELINDA _is moving towards the swing doors when she catches sight of_ BAXTER _entering from the garden up_ R. _She moves quickly to the_ L. _of_ C. _table, takes up a book and going to Chesterfield_ L., _lies down with her head to_ R. BAXTER _looks in through the window up_ R., _then crosses round and enters through the portico and the swing doors_. BELINDA _pretends to be very busy reading_.)

BAXTER (_rather nervously, in front of wring doors_). Er--may I come in, Mrs. Tremayne?

BELINDA (_dropping her book and turning round with a violent start_). Oh, Mr. Baxter, how you surprised me! (_She puts her hand to her heart and sits up and faces him_.)

BAXTER. I must apologize for intruding upon you at this hour, Mrs. Tremayne.

BELINDA (_holding up her hand_). Stop!

BAXTER (_startled_). What?

BELINDA. I cannot let you come in like that.

BAXTER (_looking down at himself_). Like what?

BELINDA (_dropping her eyes_). You called me Belinda once.

BAXTER (_coming down to her_). May I explain my position, Mrs. Tremayne?

BELINDA. Before you begin--have you been seeing my niece lately?

BAXTER (_surprised_). No.

BELINDA. Oh! (_Sweetly_.) Please go on.

BAXTER. Why, is _she_ lost too?

BELINDA. Oh no; I just---- Do sit down.

(BAXTER _moves to the chair_ L. _of_ C. _table and sits_. BELINDA _rises when he has sat down_.)

Let me put your hat down somewhere for you.

BAXTER (_keeping it firmly in his hand_). It will be all right here, thank you.

BELINDA (_returning to the Chesterfield and sitting_). I'm dying to hear what you are going to say.

BAXTER. 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.

BELINDA. All my friends call me Belinda.

BAXTER. 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.

BELINDA (_pleadingly_). Just say "Belinda" once more, in case you're a long time.

BAXTER (_very formally_). Belinda.

BELINDA. How nicely you say it--Harold.

BAXTER (_getting out of his seat_). Mrs. Tremayne, I must not listen to this.

BELINDA (_meekly_). I won't offend again, Mr. Baxter. Please go on. (_She motions him to sit--he does so_.) Tell me about the quest; are you winning?

BAXTER. I am progressing, Mrs. Tremayne. Indeed, I came here this morning to acquaint you with the results of my investigations. (_Clears his throat_.) 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.

BELINDA (_admiringly_). How splendid of you!

BAXTER. Yes.

BELINDA. Well, now, we know _he's_ not. (_She holds up one finger_.)

BAXTER. 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.

BELINDA. How brave you are!

BAXTER. Yes.

BELINDA. That makes two.

BAXTER. Yea.

BELINDA (_holding up another finger_). It still leaves a good many. (_Pleadingly_.) Just call me Belinda again.

BAXTER (_rising and backing to_ R. _a little, nervously_). You mustn't tempt me, Mrs. Tremayne.

BELINDA (_penitently_). I won't!

BAXTER (_going slowly to fireplace and placing his hat down on armchair below fireplace_). 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--

BELINDA. And so the third Mr. Robinson--?

BAXTER. 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.

BELINDA (_to herself_). Mariton! How funny! I wonder if it's the same one.

BAXTER. What one?

BELINDA. Oh, just one of the ones. (_Gratefully_.) Mr. Baxter, you are doing all this for _me_.

BAXTER. Pray do not mention it. I don't know if it's Devonshire (_going to and sitting_ L. _of_ BELINDA), 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--yes, I shall certainly go over to Mariton this afternoon.

BELINDA (_gravely_). 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--(_She looks absently at the watch on her wrist_.) Good gracious!

BAXTER (_alarmed_). What is it!

BELINDA (_looking anxiously from the door to him_). Mr. Baxter, I'm going to throw myself on your mercy.

BAXTER. My dear Mrs. Tremayne--

BELINDA (_looking at her watch again, rising and moving up_ L.C., _looking at door_). A strange man will be here directly. He must not find you with me.

BAXTER (_rising, jealously_). A man?

BELINDA (_excitedly_). Yes, yes, a man! He is pursuing me with his attentions. If he found you here, there would be a terrible scene.

BAXTER. I will defend you from him.

BELINDA (_crossing down to_ R. _of Chesterfield_). No, no. He is a big man. He will--he will overpower you. (_Moving_ L. _a little and looking out of windows_.)

BAXTER. But you----!

BELINDA. I can defend myself. I will send him away. But he must not find you here. You must hide before he overpowers you.

BAXTER (_with dignity, crossing below table to_ R.). I will withdraw if you wish it. BELINDA (_following to_ R. _at back of table_ C.). No, not withdraw, hide. He might see you withdrawing. (_Leading the way to the cupboard door_.) Quick, in here.

BAXTER (_embarrassed at the thought that this sort of thing really only happens in a bedroom farce and moving towards her_). I don't think I quite----

BELINDA (_reassuring him_). It's perfectly respectable; it's where we keep the umbrellas. (_She takes him by the hand_.)

BAXTER (_resisting and looking nervously into the cupboard_). I'm not at all sure that I----

BELINDA (_earnestly_). Oh, but don't you see what _trust_ I'm putting in you? (_To herself_.) Some people are so nervous about their umbrellas.

BAXTER. Well, of course, if you--but I don't see why I shouldn't just slip out of the door before he comes.

BELINDA (_reproachfully_). Of course, if you grudge me every little pleasure----(_Crossing in front of_ BAXTER _towards swing doors and seeing_ TREMAYNE _coming_.) Quick! Here he is.

(_She bundles him through the cupboard door and closes it and with a sign of happiness crosses down to_ C. _table. She sees _BAXTER'S _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, _"Your hat!")

BAXTER (_expostulating and nearly knocking her over as he comes out_). Well, really I----

BELINDA (_bundling him into the cupboard and closing the door_). Hush!

(BELINDA _straightens her hair, takes up her book from_ L. _of_ C. _table and sits, stroking the head of the toy dog and pretending to read_. TREMAYNE _enters from garden up_ R. _and through the swing doors up_ R.C. BELINDA _gives an assumed cry of surprise_.)

TREMAYNE (_at the swing doors_). It's no good your pretending to be surprised, because you said I could come. (_Coming down to the back of the table_ C. _and putting down his hat_.)

BELINDA (_rising, shaking hands and welcoming him_). But I can still be surprised that you wanted to come.

TREMAYNE Oh no, you aren't.

BELINDA (_marking it off on her fingers_). Just a little bit--that much.

TREMAYNE. It would be much more surprising if I hadn't come.

BELINDA (_crossing to the Chesterfield, picking up her book and handing it to_ TREMAYNE, _who puts it on the table_). It is a pretty garden, isn't it? (_She sits on_ R. _end of Chesterfield_.)

TREMAYNE (_coming to her_). You forget that I saw the garden yesterday.

BELINDA. 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. (_He moves behind the Chesterfield to the left end of it_.) And then you're coming to dinner again to-night.

TREMAYNE (_eagerly and leaning over the Chesterfield_). Am I?

BELINDA. Yes. Haven't you been asked?

TREMAYNE (_going round the left end of the Chesterfield_). No, not a word.

BELINDA. Yes, that's quite right; I remember now, I only thought of it this morning, so I couldn't ask you before, could I?

TREMAYNE (_earnestly_). What made you think of it then?

BELINDA (_romantically_). It was at the butcher's.

TREMAYNE. Eh?

BELINDA. 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." (_Protaically_.) I do hope you like lamb?

TREMAYNE (_sitting on her left side_). I adore it.

BELINDA. 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.

TREMAYNE (_jealously_). Who's Mr. Devenish?

BELINDA. Oh, haven't you met him? He's always coming here.

TREMAYNE Is he in love with you too?

BELINDA. Too? Oh, you mean Mr. Baxter?

TREMAYNE (_rising and moving to fireplace_). Confound it, that's three!

BELINDA (_innocently_). Three? (_She looks up at him and down again_.)

TREMAYNE. Who is Mr. Baxter?

BELINDA. Oh, haven't you met him? He's always coming here.

TREMAYNE (_turning away and looking into fireplace_). Who is Mr. Baxter?

(BAXTER _appears at cupboard doorway_. BELINDA _hears him and gives a startled look round. She signs to him to go back. BAXTER retreats immediately and closes door_.)

BELINDA. Oh, he's a sort of statistician. Isn't that a horrid word to say? So stishany.

TREMAYNE. What does he make statistics about?

BELINDA. Oh (_giving a sly look round at cupboard door_), umbrellas and things. Don't let's talk about him.

TREMAYNE. All right, then; (_going up to her jealously_) who is Mr. Devenish?

BELINDA. Oh, he's a poet. (_She throws up her eyes and sighs deeply_.) Ah me!

TREMAYNE. What does he write poetry about?

(BELINDA _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--all of which means, "Can't you guess?"_)

What does he write poetry about?

BELINDA (_obediently_). He wrote "The Lute of Love and other Poems, by Claude Devenish."

(TREMAYNE _is annoyed and turns away to the fireplace_.)

The Lute of Love--(_To herself_.) I haven't been saying that lately. (_With great expression_.) The Lute of Love--the Lute. (_She pats her mouth back_.)

TREMAYNE. And who is Mr. Devenish--!

BELINDA (_putting her hand on his sleeve_). You'll let me know when it's my turn, won't you?

TREMAYNE. Your turn?

BELINDA. Yes, to ask questions. I love this game--it's just like clumps. (_She crosses her hands on her lap and waits for the next question_.)

TREMAYNE. I beg your pardon. I--er--of course have no right to cross-examine you like this.

BELINDA. Oh, do go on, I love it. (_With childish excitement_.) I've got my question ready.

TREMAYNE (_smiling and going and sitting beside her again_). I think perhaps it _is_ your turn.

BELINDA (_eagerly_). Is it really? (_He nods_.) Well then-- (_in a loud voice_)--who is Mr. Robinson?

TREMAYNE (_alarmed_). What?

BELINDA. 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?

TREMAYNE. I think so.

BELINDA (_coaxingly_). Just say it.

TREMAYNE. Mariton.

BELINDA (_clapping her hands_). Lovely! I don't think any of the villagers do it as well as that.

TREMAYNE. Well?

BELINDA (_looking very hard at TREMAYNE--he wonders whether she has discovered his identity_). 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--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.

TREMAYNE. What do I know about Mrs. Tremayne but that she has a relation called Robinson?

BELINDA. And two dear friends called Devenish and Baxter.

TREMAYNE (_rising--annoyed_). I was forgetting them. (_Crosses to below_ L. _end of_ C. _table_.)

BELINDA (_to herself, with a sly look round at the cupboard_), I mustn't forget Mr. Baxter.

TREMAYNE. But what does it matter? What would it matter if I knew nothing about you? (_Moving up to_ R. _end of Chesterfield and leaning over it_.) I know everything about you--everything that matters.

BELINDA (_leaning back and closing her eyes contentedly_). Tell me some of them. TREMAYNE (_bending over her earnestly_). Belinda--

BELINDA (_still with her eyes shut_). He's going to propose to me. I can feel it coming.

TREMAYNE (_starting back_). Confound it! how many men _have_ proposed to you?

BELINDA (_surprised_). Since when?

TREMAYNE. Since your first husband proposed to you.

BELINDA. Oh, I thought you meant this year. (_Sitting up_.) Well now, let me see. (_Slowly and thoughtfully_.) One. (_She pushes up her first finger_.) Two. (_She pushes up the second_.) Three. (_She pushes up the third finger, holds it there for a moment and then pushes it gently down again_.) No, I don't think that one ought to count really. (_She pushes up two more fingers and the thumb_.) Three, four, five--do you want the names or just the total?

TREMAYNE (_moving up_ L. _and then over_ R.). This is horrible.

BELINDA (_innocently_). But anybody can propose. Now if you'd asked how many I'd accepted--

(_He turns sharply to her--annoyed_.)

Let me see, where was I up to?

(_He moves down_ R.)

I shan't count yours, because I haven't really had it yet.

(BETTY _enters down_ R. _and stands behind settee_.)

Six, seven--Yes, Betty, what is it?

BETTY. If you please, ma'am, cook would like to speak to you for a minute.

(TREMAYNE _goes up_ R.C.)

BELINDA (_getting up_). Yes, I'll come.

(BETTY _goes out, leaving the door open_. BELINDA _crosses Before the table_.)

(_To_ TREMAYNE.) You'll forgive me, won't you? You'll find some cigarettes there. (_Points to table up_ R. TREMAYNE _moves by the back of the settee and holds the door for_ BELINDA. _She turns to him in the doorway_.) It's probably about the lamb cutlets; I expect your little one refuses to be cooked.

(_She goes out after_ BETTY.)

(_Left alone_ TREMAYNE _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_ R. _to under the table_ C., _then he takes up his hat and moves towards the swing doors and half opens them. He pauses and considers--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_ BAXTER _and_ DEVENISH.)

DEVENISH (_entering from the door_ R., _which he closes and goes to foot of the settee R.--surprised_). Hullo!

(_A pause_.)

TREMAYNE (_jealously, and rising_). Are you Mr. Devenish?

DEVENISH. Yes.

TREMAYNE. Devenish the poet?

DEVENISH (_coming up and shaking him warmly by the hand_). My dear fellow, you know my work?

TREMAYNE (_grimly_). My dear Mr. Devenish, your name is most familiar to me.

DEVENISH. I congratulate you. I thought your great-grand-children would be the first to hear of me.

TREMAYNE (_moving to_ L.). My name's Robinson, by the way.

DEVENISH (_connecting him with_ DELIA). Then let me return the compliment, Robinson. Your name is familiar to me.

TREMAYNE (_hastily, and going towards_ DEVENISH). I don't think I'm related to any Robinsons you know.

DEVENISH (_dubiously_). 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. (_Thinking of_ DELIA.) Many things have happened since then.

TREMAYNE (_uninterested, moving_ L.) Really!

DEVENISH. There is a man called Baxter--(TREMAYNE _displays his jealousy of_ BAXTER.) who is still collecting, I believe. For myself, I am only interested in one of the great family--Delia.

TREMAYNE (_eagerly, and going quickly to him and placing his hand on DEVENISH'S left shoulder_). You are interested in _her_?

DEVENISH. Devotedly. In fact, I am at this moment waiting for her to put on her hat.

TREMAYNE (_warmly, banging him on the shoulder with both hands_). My dear Devenish, I am delighted to make your acquaintance. (_He seizes his hand and grips it heartily_.) How are you? (DEVENISH _backs to the settee in pain_.)

DEVENISH (_sitting on settee, feeling his fingers_). Fairly well, thanks.

TREMAYNE (_sitting above him and banging him on the back_). That's right.

DEVENISH (_still nursing his hand_). You are a very lucky fellow, Robinson.

TREMAYNE. In what way?

DEVENISH. People you meet must be so very reluctant to say good-bye to you. Have you ever tried strangling lions or anything like that?

TREMAYNE (_with a laugh_). Well, as a matter of fact, I have.

DEVENISH. I suppose you won all right?

TREMAYNE. In the end, with the help of my beater.

DEVENISH. Personally I should have backed you alone against any two ordinary lions.

TREMAYNE. One was quite enough. As it was, he gave me something to remember him by. (_Putting up his left sleeve, he displays a deep scar_.)

DEVENISH (_looking at it casually_). By Jove, that's a nasty one! (_He suddenly catches sight of the mole and stares at it fascinated, then stares up at_ TREMAYNE.) Good heavens!

TREMAYNE. What's the matter?

DEVENISH (_clasping his head_). Wait. (_Rising and moving up to L. of_ TREMAYNE.) Let me think. (_After a pause_.) Have you ever met a man called Baxter?

TREMAYNE. No.

DEVENISH. Would you like to?

TREMAYNE (_grimly_). Very much indeed.

DEVENISH. He's the man I told you about who's interested in Robinsons. He'll be delighted to meet you. (_With a nervous laugh_.) Funny thing, he's rather an authority on lions. You must show him that scar of yours; it will intrigue him immensely. (_Earnestly_.) _Don't_ shake hands with him too heartily just at first; it might put him off the whole thing.

TREMAYNE. This Mr. Baxter seems to be a curious man.

DEVENISH (_absently_). Yes, he is rather odd. (_Looking at his watch_.) I wonder if I----(_To_ TREMAYNE.) I suppose you won't be-- (_He stops suddenly. A slight tapping noise comes from the room where they keep umbrellas_.)

TREMAYNE. What's that!

(_The tapping noise is repeated, a little more loudly this time. DEVENISH moves to end of table_.)

DEVENISH. Come in.

(_The door opens and_ BAXTER _comes in nervously, holding his bowler hat in his hand. He moves towards the swing doors_.)

BAXTER (_apologetically_). Oh, I just--(TREMAYNE _stands up_) --I just--(_He goes back again_.)

DEVENISH (_springing across the room_). Baxter!

(_The door opens nervously again and BAXTER'S head appears round it_.)

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

(BAXTER _comes in carefully_. DEVENISH _closes the door_.)

Good man. (_To_ TREMAYNE, _taking_ BAXTER _down_ R., _and placing his arm round his shoulders_.) This is Mr. Baxter that I was telling you about.

(BAXTER _removes_ DEVENISH'S _arm from his shoulders_.)

TREMAYNE (_moving up to_ BAXTER _and much relieved at the appearance of his rival_). Oh, is this Mr. Baxter? (_Holding out his hand with great friendliness_.) How are you, Mr. Baxter?

DEVENISH (_warningly_). Steady!

(TREMAYNE _shakes_ BAXTER _quite gently by the hand_.)

Baxter, this is Mr. Robinson. (_Casually_.) R-o-b-i-n-s-o-n. (_He looks sideways at_ BAXTER _to see how he takes it_. BAXTER _is noticeably impressed_.)

BAXTER. Really? I am very glad to meet you, sir.

TREMAYNE. Very good of you to say so.

DEVENISH (_to_ BAXTER, _taking his arm_. BAXTER _is annoyed and gets free_). Robinson is a great big-game hunter.

BAXTER (_moving down to_ TREMAYNE). Indeed? I have never done anything in that way myself, but I'm sure it must be an absorbing pursuit.

TREMAYNE. Oh, well, it's something to do.

DEVENISH (_to_ BAXTER). You must get him to tell you about a wrestle he had with a lion once. Extraordinary story! (_Looking at his watch suddenly_.) Jove! I must be off. See you again, Baxter. (_He bangs_ BAXTER _on the shoulder and moves down to_ TREMAYNE.) Good-bye, Robinson. No, don't shake hands. I'm in a hurry. (_He looks at his watch again and goes out hurriedly by the door on the_ R.)

(TREMAYNE _sits on settee_ R. _and_ BAXTER _on chair_ R. _of_ C. _table. He puts his hat on the table_.)

TREMAYNE. Unusual man, your friend Devenish. I suppose it comes of being a poet.

BAXTER. I have no great liking for Mr. Devenish--

TREMAYNE. Oh, he's all right.

BAXTER. 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.

TREMAYNE (_laughing_). 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.

BAXTER. And had you?

TREMAYNE. Well, it just happened that I had.

BAXTER. Indeed! You came off scatheless, I trust?

TREMAYNE (_carelessly indicating his arm_). Well, he got me one across there.

BAXTER (_rising and coming to above_ TREMAYNE, _obviously excited_). Really, really. (_Points to his arm_.) One across there. Not bad, I hope?

TREMAYNE (_laughing_). Well, it doesn't show unless I do that. (_He pulls up his sleeve carelessly and_ BAXTER _bends eagerly over his arm and sees the mole and very slowly looks up at_ TREMAYNE, _then down at the arm again, then up at_ TREMAYNE.)

BAXTER. Good heavens! I've found it! (_He runs over to the table and picks up his hat_.)

TREMAYNE. Found what? (_He pulls down his sleeve_.)

BAXTER (_going up_ L.). I must see Mrs. Tremayne. Where's Mrs. Tremayne?

TREMAYNE. She went out just now. What's the matter?

BAXTER. Out! I must find her. This is a matter of life and death. (_He hurries through the swing doors_.) Mrs. Tremayne! Mrs. Tremayne! (_He exits_ R. _through the garden_.)

(TREMAYNE _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_, BELINDA _comes back_ R.)

BELINDA (_crossing below settee_). Such a to-do in the kitchen! The cook's given notice--at least she will directly--(_up to_ TREMAYNE)--and your lamb cutlet slipped back to the shop when nobody was looking

(TREMAYNE _looks off at swing doors_)

and I've got to go into the village again, (_going to the refectory table and getting her hat_) and ok dear, oh dear, I have such a lot of things to do! (_Looking across at MR. BAXTER'S door_.) Oh yes, that's another one. (_Coming back to table_ C. _and putting down her hat on R. side_.)

TREMAYNE. Belinda-- (_Moving up to her_.)

BELINDA. No, not even Belinda. Wait till this evening.

TREMAYNE. I have a thousand things to say to you; I shall say them this evening.

BELINDA (_giving him her hand_). Begin about eight o'clock. Good-bye till then.

(_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_ L.)

(BELINDA _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_ MR. BAXTER _again. With a smile she goes to the door and taps gently_.)

BELINDA. Mr. Baxter, Mr. Baxter, you may come in now; he has withdrawn. (_Moves down a little and then back to_ L. _of the door again_.) Mr. Baxter, I have unhanded him. (_She opens the door and going in, finds the room empty_.) Oh!

(BAXTER _comes quickly through the swing doors_.)

BAXTER (_meeting_ BELINDA _coming out of the cupboard_). Ah, (_they both start_) there you are! (_Crossing down to_ R. _end of_ C. _table, he puts down his hat_.)

BELINDA (_turning with a start_). Oh, how you frightened me, Mr. Baxter! I couldn't think what had happened to you. (_She closes the door_.) I thought perhaps you'd been eaten up by one of the umbrellas.

BAXTER. Mrs. Tremayne, I have some wonderful news for you. I have found Miss Robinson's father.

BELINDA (_on his_ L., _hardly understanding_). Miss Robinson's father?

BAXTER. Yes. _Mr_. Robinson.

BELINDA. Oh, you mean--(_Points to direction when TREMAYNE has gone_.) Oh yes, he told me his name was Robinson--Oh, but he's no relation.

BAXTER. Wait! I saw his arm. By a subterfuge I managed to see his arm.

BELINDA (_her eyes opening more and more widely as she begins to realize_). You saw--

BAXTER. I saw the mole.

BELINDA (_coming down to him faintly as she holds out her own arm_). Show me.

BAXTER (_very decorously indicating_). There!

(BELINDA _holds the place with her other hand, and still looking at_ MR. BAXTER, _slowly begins to laugh--half-laughter, half-tears, wonderingly, happily, contentedly_.)

BELINDA (_moving to_ R. _of table and sitting_). And I didn't know!

BAXTER (_moving to back of table_). Mrs. Tremayne, I am delighted to have done this service for your niece----

BELINDA (_to herself_). Of course, _he_ knew all the time.

BAXTER (_to the world_). Still more am I delighted to have gained the victory over Mr. Devenish in this enterprise.

BELINDA. Eighteen years--but I _ought_ to have known.

BAXTER (_at large_). I shall not be accused of exaggerating when I say that the odds against such an enterprise were enormous.

BELINDA. Eighteen years---- And now I've eight whole _hours_ to wait!

BAXTER (_triumphantly_). It will be announced to-night. "Mr. Devenish," I shall say, "young fellow----" (_He arranges his speech in his mind_.)

BELINDA (_nodding to herself mischievously_). So I was right, after all! (_Slowly and triumphantly_.) He _does_ look better without a beard!

BAXTER (_with his hand on the back of the chair on the_ L. _side of the table_). "Mr. Devenish, young fellow, when you matched yourself against a man of my repute, when you matched yourself against a man-- matched yourself against a man of my repute (_crossing towards fireplace_)

(BELINDA _rises stealthily, takes up her hat and exits through the swing doors and through the garden up_ R.)

when you matched yourself against a man who has read papers (_moving towards centre table_) at Soirees of the Royal Statistical Society----" (_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_.) Unusual!

(_He moves up towards the swing doors_.)

CURTAIN.