DEVENISH (_turning and appealing to_ BELINDA). Please!

BELINDA (_gently_). Mr. Baxter... Harold.

(BAXTER _stops and turns round_.)

You are too impetuous. I think that as Delia's mother--

BAXTER (_coming down_ R. _to the foot of the_ C. _table_). Your pardon, Mrs. Tremayne. In the intoxication of the moment I am forgetting. (_Formally_.) I have the honour to ask your permission to pay my addresses--(_Moves to chair_ L. _of table_.)

BELINDA. No, no, I didn't mean that. But, as Delia's mother, I ought to warn you that she is hardly fitted to take the place of your housekeeper. She is not very domesticated.

BAXTER (_indignantly_). Not domesticated? (_Sits_ L. _of table_.) Why, did I not hear her tell her father at dinner that she had arranged all the flowers?

BELINDA. There are other things than flowers.

DEVENISH (_on_ BAXTER'S R., _behind the table_). Bed-socks, for instance, Baxter.

(BAXTER _is annoyed_.)

It's a very tricky thing airing bed-socks. I am sure your house-keeper--

BAXTER (_silencing_ DEVENISH). Mrs. Tremayne, she will learn. The daughter of such a mother... I need say no more.

BELINDA. Oh, thank you. But there is something else, Mr. Baxter. You are not being quite fair to yourself. In starting out upon this simultaneous wooing, you forget that Mr. Devenish has already had his turn--(DEVENISH _tries to stop her_. BAXTER _turns round and nearly catches him_.)--this morning alone. You should have yours ... alone ... too.

DEVENISH. Oh, I say!

BAXTER. Yes, yes, you are right. I must introduce myself first as a suitor. I see that. (_Rising, to_ DEVENISH.) You stay here; _I_ will go alone into the garden, and--(_Moving below table and up to the swing doors_.)

BELINDA. It is perhaps a little cold out of doors for people of ... of our age, Mr. Baxter. Now, in the library--

BAXTER (_at the swing doors, turning to her, astonished_). Library?

BELINDA. Yes.

BAXTER (_moving down_ R. _a little_). You have a library?

BELINDA (_to_ DEVENISH). He doesn't believe I have a library.

DEVENISH. You ought to see the library, Baxter.

BAXTER (_moving more down to below_ R. _of table_). But you are continually springing surprises on me this evening, Mrs. Tremayne. First a daughter, then a husband, and then--a library! I have been here three weeks, and I never knew you had a library. Dear me, I wonder how it is that I never saw it?

BELINDA (_modestly, rising_). I thought you came to see _me_.

BAXTER. Yes, yes, to see you, certainly. But if I had known you had a library ....

BELINDA. Oh, I am so glad I mentioned it. Wasn't it lucky, Mr. Devenish?

BAXTER. My work has been greatly handicapped of late.

(DELIA _and_ TREMAYNE _enter the garden from up_ L. _and pass the window at the back_.)

BELINDA (_sweetly_). By me?

BAXTER. I was about to say by lack of certain books to which I wanted to refer. It would be a great help. (_He moves up R, reflectively muttering "Library."_)

BELINDA (_moving below and to_ R. _of_ C. _table_). My dear Mr. Baxter, my whole library is at your disposal. (_She turns to_ DEVENISH, _who is on her_ L., _and at the back of the table. She speaks in a confidential whisper_.) I'm just going to show him the Encyclopedia Britannica. (_She moves below the settee to the door_ R.) You won't mind waiting--Delia will be in directly.

(BAXTER, _still muttering "Library," crosses to the door and opens it for her. She goes out and he follows her_. DEVENISH _moves to the R. of the swing doors and welcomes_ DELIA _and_ TREMAYNE. TREMAYNE _enters from the portico and holds open the swing doors for_ DELIA.)

DELIA (_speaking from the portico_). Hullo, we're just coming in.

(_They enter and_ DELIA _moves down_ R. _of the table_.)

TREMAYNE. Where's Mrs. Tremayne?

DEVENISH (_moving to down_ R.). She's gone to the library with Baxter.

TREMAYNE (_coming down on_ DELIA'S R. _side--carelessly_). Oh, the library. Where's that?

DEVENISH (_promptly going towards the door, opening it and standing above it_). The end door on the right.

(DELIA _sits on the_ R. _end of the table facing_ R.)

Right at the end. You can't mistake it. On the right.

TREMAYNE. Ah, yes. (_He looks round at_ DELIA, _who points significantly at the door twice_.) Yes. (_He looks at_ DEVENISH.) Yes. (_He goes out_.)

(DEVENISH _hastily shuts the door and comes back to_ DELIA.)

DEVENISH. I say, your mother is a ripper.

DELIA (_enthusiastically_). Isn't she! (_Remembering_.) At least, you mean my aunt?

DEVENISH (_smiling at her_). No, I mean your mother. To think that I once had the cheek to propose to her.

DELIA. Oh! Is it cheek to propose to people!

DEVENISH. To _her_.

DELIA. But not to me?

DEVENISH. Oh I say, Delia!

DELIA (_with great dignity_). Thank you, my name is Miss Robinson-- I mean, Tremayne.

DEVENISH. Well, if you're not quite sure which it is, it's much safer to call you Delia.

DELIA (_smiling_). Well, perhaps it is.

DEVENISH. And if I did propose to you, you haven't answered

DELIA (_sitting in the chair_ R. _of the table_). If you want an answer now, it's no; but if you like to wait till next April-----

DEVENISH (_moving up to behind table--reproachfully_). Oh, I say, and I cut my hair for you the same afternoon. (_Turning quickly_.) You haven't really told me how you like it yet.

DELIA. Oh, how bad of me! You look lovely.

DEVENISH (_sitting at back of the table_). And I promised to give up poetry for your sake.

DELIA. Perhaps I oughtn't to have asked you that.

DEVENISH. As far as I'm concerned, Delia, I'll do it gladly, but, of course, one has to think about posterity.

DELIA. But you needn't be a poet. You could give posterity plenty to think about if you were a statesman.

DEVENISH. I don't quite see your objection to poetry.

DELIA. You would be about the house so much. I want you to go away every day and do great things, and then come home in the evening and tell me all about it.

DEVENISH. Then you _are_ thinking of marrying me!

DELIA. Well, I was just thinking in case I had to.

DEVENISH (_he rises and taking her hands, raises her from the chair. She backs a step to_ R.). Do. It would be rather fun if you did. And look here--(_he pulls her gently back. They both sit on the table. He places his arm round her waist_)--I _will_ be a statesman, if you like, and go up to Downing Street every day, and come back in the evening and tell you all about it.

DELIA. How nice of you!

DEVENISH (_magnificently, holding up his_ L. _hand to Heaven_). Farewell, Parnassus!

DELIA (_pulling down his hand_). What does that mean?

DEVENISH. Well, it means that I've chucked poetry. A statesman's life is the life for me; behold Mr. Devenish, the new M.P.--(_she holds up her_ L. _hand admonishingly and he laughs apologetically _)--no, look here, that was quite accidental.

DELIA (_smiling at him_). I believe I shall really like you when I get to know you.

DEVENISH. I don't know if it's you, or Devonshire, or the fact that I've