the village, was eventually cleared up, and on my return I satisfied myself that this man was in no way related to your niece.
BELINDA (admiringly). How splendid of you! Well, now, we know _he's_ not. (She holds up one finger.)
BAXTER. Yes. In the afternoon I located another Mr. Robinson following the profession of a carrier. My first inquiries led to a similar result, with the exception that in this case Mr. Robinson carried his threatening attitude so far as to take off his coat and roll up his sleeves. Perceiving at once that he was not the man, I withdrew.
BELINDA. How brave you are! That makes two. (She holds up another finger). It still leaves a good many. (Pleadingly.) Just call me Belinda again.
BAXTER (nervously). You mustn't tempt me, Mrs. Tremayne.
BELINDA (penitently). I won't!
BAXTER. To resume, then, my narrative. This morning I have heard of a third Mr. Robinson. Whether there is actually any particular fortune attached to the number three I cannot say for certain. It is doubtful whether statistics would be found to support the popular belief. But one likes to flatter oneself that in one's own case it may be true; and so--
BELINDA. And so the third Mr. Robinson--?
BAXTER. Something for which I cannot altogether account inspires me with hope. He is, I have discovered, staying at Mariton. This afternoon I go to look for him.
BELINDA (to herself). Mariton! How funny! I wonder if it's the same one.
BAXTER. What one?
BELINDA. Oh, just one of the ones. (Gratefully.) Mr. Baxter, you are doing all this for _me_.
BAXTER. Pray do not mention it. I don't know if it's Devonshire, or the time of the year, or the sort of atmosphere you create, Mrs. Tremayne, but I feel an entirely different man. There is something in the air which--yes, I shall certainly go over to Mariton this afternoon.
BELINDA (gravely). I have had the same feeling sometimes, Mr. Baxter. I am not always the staid respectable matron which I appear to you to be. Sometimes I--(She looks absently at the watch on her wrist.) Good gracious!
BAXTER (alarmed). What is it!
BELINDA (looking anxiously from the door to him). Mr. Baxter, I'm going to throw myself on your mercy.
BAXTER. My dear Mrs. Tremayne--
BELINDA (looking at her watch again). A strange man will be here directly. He must not find you with me.
BAXTER (rising, jealously). A man?
BELINDA (excitedly). Yes, yes, a man! He is pursuing me with his attentions. If he found you here, there would be a terrible scene.
BAXTER. I will defend you from him.
BELINDA. No, no. He is a big man. He will--he will overpower you.
BAXTER. But you--?
BELINDA. I can defend myself. I will send him away. But he must not find you here. You must hide before he overpowers you.
BAXTER (with dignity). I will withdraw if you wish it.
BELINDA. No, not withdraw, hide. He might see you withdrawing. (Leading the way to a door on the right) Quick, in here.
BAXTER (embarrassed at the thought that this sort of thing really only happens in a bedroom farce). I don't think I quite--
BELINDA (reassuring him). It's perfectly respectable; it's where we keep the umbrellas. (She takes him by the hand.)
BAXTER (still resisting). I'm not at all sure that I--
BELINDA (earnestly). Oh, but don't you see what _trust_ I'm putting in you? Some people are so nervous about their umbrellas.
BAXTER. Well, of course, if you--but I don't see why I shouldn't just slip out of the door before he comes.
BELINDA (reproachfully). Of course, if you grudge me every little pleasure--Quick! Here he is.
(She bundles him through the door, and with a sigh of happiness comes back and looks at herself in the mirror. She goes to the front-door, moves her hand to somebody in the distance, and comes into the hall again. Seeing MR. BAXTER'S bowler hat on the sofa, she carries across to his door, knocks, hands it to him, saying, "Your hat. S'sh!" and returns to her chair. TREMAYNE comes in.)
TREMAYNE (at the door). It's no good your pretending to be surprised, because you said I could come.
BELINDA (welcoming him). But I can still be surprised that you wanted to come.
TREMAYNE Oh no, you aren't.
BELINDA (marking it off on her fingers). Just a little bit--that much.
TREMAYNE. It would be much more surprising if I hadn't come.
BELINDA (sitting down on the sofa). It is a pretty garden, isn't it?
TREMAYNE (sitting down next to her). You forget that I saw the garden yesterday.
BELINDA. Oh, but the things have grown so much since then. Let me see, this is the third day you've been and we only met three days ago. And then you're coming to dinner again to-night.
TREMAYNE (eagerly). Am I?
BELINDA. Yes. Haven't you been asked?
TREMAYNE. No, not a word.
BELINDA. Yes, that's quite right; I remember now, I only thought of it this morning, so I couldn't ask you before, could I?
TREMAYNE (earnestly). What made you think of it then?
BELINDA (romantically). It was at the butcher's. There was one little lamb cutlet left over and sitting out all by itself, and there was nobody to love it. And I said to myself, suddenly, "I know, that will do for Mr. Robinson." (Prosaically.) I do hope you like lamb?
TREMAYNE. I adore it.
BELINDA. Oh, I'm so glad! When I saw it sitting there I thought you'd love it. I'm afraid I can't tell you any more about the rest of the dinner, because I wouldn't tell Mr. Devenish, and I want to be fair.
TREMAYNE. Who's Mr. Devenish?
BELINDA. Oh, haven't you met him? He's always coming here.
TREMAYNE Is he in love
