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 friendship 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 love