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
