BELINDA. I shouldn't go on _that_ too much. You see, he may easily have changed it by now. He was never very much of a Robinson. Nothing to do with Peter or any of those. DEVENISH. I will find him. BAXTER (_with a look of annoyance at_ DEVENISH). Well, can you tell us what he's like? BELINDA. Well, it's such a long time since I saw him. (_Looking down modestly_.) Of course, I was quite a girl then. The only thing I know for certain is that he has a mole on his left arm about here. (_She indicates a spot just below the elbow_. BAXTER _examines it closely_.) DEVENISH (_folding his arms and looking nobly upwards_). I will find him. BAXTER. I am bound to inform you, Mrs. Tremayne, that even a trained detective could not give you very much hope in such a case. However, I will keep a look-out for him, and, of course, if-- DEVENISH. Fear not, lady, I will find him. BAXTER (_annoyed_). Yes, you keep on saying that, but what have you got to go on? DEVENISH (_grandly_). Faith! The faith which moves mountains. BELINDA. Yes, and this is only just one small mole-hill, Mr. Baxter. BAXTER. Yes, but still-- BELINDA. S'sh! here is Miss Robinson. (BAXTER _takes up his hat and moves below the deck-chair to_ R. _to meet_ DELIA.) If Mr. Devenish will hold the hammock while I alight--we don't want an accident-- (DELIA _comes out of the house_.) --I can introduce you. (_He helps her to get out, holding the hammock_.) Thank you. Delia darling (DELIA _moves down_ R.) this is Mr. Baxter,--and Mr. Devenish. My niece, Miss Robinson-- (DELIA _shakes hands with_ BAXTER _and moves to_ C. _below_ BELINDA _and shakes hands with_ DEVENISH.) DELIA. How do you do? BELINDA. Miss Robinson has just come over from France. _Man Dieu, quel pays!_ BAXTER. I hope you had a good crossing, Miss Robinson. DELIA. Oh, I never mind about the crossing. (_Very slowly and shyly_.) Aunt Belinda----(_She stops and smiles_.) BELINDA. Yes, dear? DELIA. I believe tea is almost ready. I want mine, and I'm sure Mr. Baxter's hungry. (_He sniggers approvingly_.) Mr. Devenish scorns food, I expect. DEVENISH (_hurt_). Why do you say that? DELIA. Aren't you a poet? BELINDA. Yes, darling, but that doesn't prevent him eating. He'll be absolutely lyrical over Betty's sandwiches. DEVENISH. You won't deny me that inspiration, I hope, Miss Robinson. BELINDA (_taking_ DELIA'S_ arm and moving with her to below deck- chair_). Well, let's go and see what they're like. (DELIA _moves up_ R.C. _to below the porch, accompanied by_ BAXTER _on her_ R. _and_ DEVENISH, _who follows her on her_ L. _They all move towards the porch_.) Mr. Baxter, just a moment. BAXTER (_apologizing to_ DELIA _and moving in front of the others to back of deck-chair_.) Yes? (DELIA _gathers a daffodil from a vase_ R. _and places it in _DEVENISH'S_ buttonhole_.) BELINDA (_secretly_). Not a word to her about Mr. Robinson. It must be a surprise for her. BAXTER. Quite so, I understand.