BELINDA (_moving below and to_ R. _of_ C. _table_). My dear Mr. Baxter, my whole library is at your disposal. (_She turns to_ DEVENISH, _who is on her_ L., _and at the back of the table. She speaks in a confidential whisper_.) I'm just going to show him the Encyclopedia Britannica. (_She moves below the settee to the door_ R.) You won't mind waiting--Delia will be in directly. (BAXTER, _still muttering "Library," crosses to the door and opens it for her. She goes out and he follows her_. DEVENISH _moves to the R. of the swing doors and welcomes_ DELIA _and_ TREMAYNE. TREMAYNE _enters from the portico and holds open the swing doors for_ DELIA.) DELIA (_speaking from the portico_). Hullo, we're just coming in. (_They enter and_ DELIA _moves down_ R. _of the table_.) TREMAYNE. Where's Mrs. Tremayne? DEVENISH (_moving to down_ R.). She's gone to the library with Baxter. TREMAYNE (_coming down on_ DELIA'S R. _side--carelessly_). Oh, the library. Where's that? DEVENISH (_promptly going towards the door, opening it and standing above it_). The end door on the right. (DELIA _sits on the_ R. _end of the table facing_ R.) Right at the end. You can't mistake it. On the right. TREMAYNE. Ah, yes. (_He looks round at_ DELIA, _who points significantly at the door twice_.) Yes. (_He looks at_ DEVENISH.) Yes. (_He goes out_.) (DEVENISH _hastily shuts the door and comes back to_ DELIA.) DEVENISH. I say, your mother is a ripper. DELIA (_enthusiastically_). Isn't she! (_Remembering_.) At least, you mean my aunt? DEVENISH (_smiling at her_). No, I mean your mother. To think that I once had the cheek to propose to her. DELIA. Oh! Is it cheek to propose to people! DEVENISH. To _her_. DELIA. But not to me? DEVENISH. Oh I say, Delia! DELIA (_with great dignity_). Thank you, my name is Miss Robinson-- I mean, Tremayne. DEVENISH. Well, if you're not quite sure which it is, it's much safer to call you Delia. DELIA (_smiling_). Well, perhaps it is. DEVENISH. And if I did propose to you, you haven't answered DELIA (_sitting in the chair_ R. _of the table_). If you want an answer now, it's no; but if you like to wait till next April----- DEVENISH (_moving up to behind table--reproachfully_). Oh, I say, and I cut my hair for you the same afternoon. (_Turning quickly_.) You haven't really told me how you like it yet. DELIA. Oh, how bad of me! You look lovely. DEVENISH (_sitting at back of the table_). And I promised to give up poetry for your sake. DELIA. Perhaps I oughtn't to have asked you that. DEVENISH. As far as I'm concerned, Delia, I'll do it gladly, but, of course, one has to think about posterity. DELIA. But you needn't be a poet. You could give posterity plenty to think about if you were a statesman. DEVENISH. I don't quite see your objection to poetry. DELIA. You would be about the house so much. I want you to go away every day and do great things, and then come home in the evening and tell me all about it.