Part 35 (1/2)

DELIA. Don't you remember the Count who kept proposing to you at Scarborough? I do.

BELINDA (reproachfully). Dear one, you were the merest child, paddling about on the beach and digging castles.

DELIA (smiling to herself). I was old enough to notice the Count.

BELINDA (sadly). And I'd bought her a perfectly new spade! How one deceives oneself!

DELIA. And then there was the M.P. who proposed at Windermere.

BELINDA. Yes, dear, but it wasn't seconded--I mean he never got very far with it.

DELIA. And the artist in Wales.

BELINDA. Darling child, what a memory you have. No wonder your teachers are pleased with you.

DELIA (settling herself comfortably). Now tell me all about this one.

BELINDA (meekly). Which one?

DELIA (excitedly). Oh, are there lots?

BELINDA (severely). Only two.

DELIA. Two! You abandoned woman!

BELINDA. It's something in the air, darling. I've never been in Devons.h.i.+re in April before.

DELIA. Is it really serious this time?

BELINDA (pained). I wish you wouldn't say _this_ time, Delia. It sounds so unromantic. If you'd only put it into French--_cette fois_--it sounds so much better. _Cette fois_. (Parentally.) When one's daughter has just returned from an expensive schooling in Paris, one likes to feel--

DELIA. What I meant, dear, was, am I to have a stepfather at last?

BELINDA. Now you're being _too_ French, darling.

DELIA. Why, do you still think father may be alive?

BELINDA. Why not? It's only eighteen years since he left us, and he was quite a young man then.

DELIA. Yes, but surely you'd have heard from him in all those years, if he'd been alive?

BELINDA. Well, he hasn't heard from _me, _and I'm still alive.

DELIA (looking earnestly at her mother). I shall never understand it.

BELINDA. Understand what?

DELIA. Were you as heavenly when you were young as you are now?

BELINDA (rapturously). Oh, I was sweet!