Part 18 (1/2)

DEVENISH. Your daughter! I say, how ripping!

(BELINDA _gives him an understanding look_.)

BAXTER. Your daughter!

BELINDA. Yes.

BAXTER. But--but you aren't old enough to have a daughter of that age.

BELINDA (_apologetically_). Well, there she is.

BAXTER. But--but she's grown up.

BELINDA. Quite.

BAXTER. Then in that case you must be----(_He hesitates, evidently working it out_.)

BELINDA (_hastily_). I'm afraid so, Mr. Baxter.

BAXTER. But this makes a great difference. I had no idea. Why, when I'm fifty you would be----

BELINDA (_sighing_). Yes, I suppose I should.

BAXTER. And when I'm sixty----

BELINDA (_pleadingly to_ DEVENISH). Can't you stop him?

DEVENISH (_with a threatening gesture_). Look here, Baxter, another word from you and you'll never _get_ to sixty.

BAXTER. And then there's Miss--er--Delia. In the event of our marrying, Mrs. Tremayne, she, I take it, would be my step-daughter.

BELINDA. I don't think she would trouble us much, Mr. Baxter. (_With a sly look at_ DEVENISH.) I have an idea that she will be getting married before long. (_She again glances at_ DEVENISH, _who returns her look gratefully_.)

BAXTER (_moving up_ L. _into the inner room_). None the less, the fact would be disturbing.

(DEVENISH _with a wink at_ BELINDA _crosses in front of her and warms his hands at the fire_. BELINDA _watches_ BAXTER _over the back of the Chesterfield_.)

I have never yet considered myself seriously as a step-father.

(_Moving round the refectory table_.) I don't think I am going too far if I say that to some extent I have been deceived in this matter.

(_He comes down to behind the_ C. _table_.)

BELINDA (_reproachfully_). And so have I. I thought you loved me.

DEVENISH (_sympathetically_). Yes, yes.

BELINDA (_turning to him suddenly_). And Mr. Devenish too.

BAXTER (_moving to_ BELINDA). Er----

DEVENISH. Er----