Part 41 (1/2)

BELINDA. Do you think so? (He says ”Yes” with his eyes, bows, and goes off down the garden. BELINDA stays looking after him, then gives that happy sigh of hers, only even more so) O-oh!

[Enter BETTY.]

BETTY. If you please, ma'am, Miss Delia says, are you coming in to tea?

BELINDA (looking straight in front of her, and taking no notice of BETTY, in a happy, dreamy voice). Betty,... about callers.... If Mr. Robinson calls--he's the handsome gentleman who hasn't been here before--you will say, ”Not at home.” And he will say, ”Oh!” And you will say, ”I beg your pardon, sir, was it Mr. _Robinson_?” And he will say, ”Yes!” And you will say, ”Oh, I beg your pardon, sir--” (Almost as if she were BETTY, she begins to move towards the house.) ”This way--” (she would be smiling an invitation over her shoulder to MR. ROBINSON, if he were there, and she were BETTY)--”please!” (And the abandoned woman goes in to tea.)

ACT II

[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.]

[DEVENISH, who has just rung the bell, is waiting with a bouquet of violets between the two. Midway on the right is a door leading to a small room where hats and coats are kept. A door on the left leads towards the living-rooms.]

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 brings him in and goes away to find DELIA.)

(DEVENISH tries a number of poses about the room for himself and his bouquet, and finally selects one against the right side of the door by which he has just come in.)

[Enter DELIA from the door on the left.]

DELIA (shutting the door and going _to_ DEVENISH). Oh, good morning, Mr.

Devenish. 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. Miss Delia, if our friends.h.i.+p is to progress at all, it can only be on the distinct understanding that I take no interest whatever in Mr. Baxter's movements.

DELIA. 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.