(DEVENISH _tries a number of poses about the room for himself and hit bouquet. He crosses below the table_ C. _and sits_ L. _of it and is about to place his elbow on the table when he finds the toy dog which has been placed there is in his way. He removes it to the centre of the table and then leans with his elbow on table and finds this pose unsuitable so he crosses to above the fireplace and leans against the upper portico, resting on his elbow which slips and nearly prostrates him. He then crosses up to_ L. _of the cupboard door at back centre and leans on his elbow against the wall_.) (_Enter_ DELIA _from the door_ R.) DELIA (_shutting the door and going to_ DEVENISH). Oh, good morning, Mr. Devenish. [Illustration :] (DEVENISH _kisses her hand_.) 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 (_jealously_). Miss Delia, if our friendship is to progress at all, it can only be on the distinct understanding that I take no interest whatever (_coming to back of table_ C.) in Mr. Baxter's movements. DELIA (_moving down_ R. _a little_). Oh, I'm so sorry; I thought you knew. What lovely flowers! Are they for my aunt? DEVENISH. To whom does one bring violets? To modest, shrinking, tender youth. DELIA. I don't think we have anybody here like that. DEVENISH (_with a bow and holding out the violets to her_). Miss Delia, they are for you. DELIA (_smelling and taking violets_). Oh, how nice of you! But I'm afraid I oughtn't to take them from you under false pretences; I don't shrink. DEVENISH. A fanciful way of putting it, perhaps. They are none the less for you. DELIA. Well, it's awfully kind of you. (_Puts flowers down. Then she moves up to the cupboard. He follows on her_ L. _and opens the door_.) I'm afraid I'm not a very romantic person. (_Turning to him in cupboard doorway_.) Aunt Belinda does all the romancing in our family. DEVENISH. Your aunt is a very remarkable woman. DELIA. She is. Don't you dare to say a word against her. (_Takes up a vase from a chair in cupboard and shakes it as if draining it_.) DEVENISH. My dear Miss Delia, nothing could be further from my thoughts. Why, am I not indebted to her for that great happiness which has come to me in these last few days? DELIA (_surprised_). Good gracious! and I didn't know anything about it. (_Coming down to_ R. _of table with vase_.) But what about poor Mr. Baxter? DEVENISH (_stiffly, crossing over to fireplace, very annoyed_). I must beg that Mr. Baxter's name be kept out of our conversation. DELIA (_going up to table behind Chesterfield up_ L.). But I thought Mr. Baxter and you were such friends. (DELIA _takes water carafe from the table and smiles at_ DEVENISH-- _which he does not see_.)