TREMAYNE. I meant----- BELINDA. Mr. Devenish said I was as old as the--now, I must get this the right way round--as old as the----- TREMAYNE. I don't want to talk about Mr. Devenish. BELINDA (_with a sigh_). Nobody ever does--except Mr. Devenish. As old as the stars, and as young as the dawn. (_Settling herself cosily_.) I think that's rather a nice age to be, don't you? TREMAYNE. A very nice age to be. BELINDA. It's a pity he's thrown me over for Delia; I shall miss that sort of thing rather. You don't say those sort of things about your aunt-in-law----not so often. TREMAYNE (_eagerly_). He really is in love with Miss Robinson! BELINDA. Oh yes. I expect he is out in the moonlight with her now, comparing her to Diana. TREMAYNE. Well, that accounts for _him. _Now what about Baxter? BELINDA. I thought I told you. Deeply disappointed to find that I was four years older than he expected, Mr. Baxter hurried from the drawing-room and buried himself in a column of the _Encyclopedia Britannica_. TREMAYNE. Well, that settles Baxter. Are there any more men in the neighbourhood? BELINDA (_shaking her head_). Isn't it awful? I've only had those two for the last three weeks. (TREMAYNE _sits on the back of the Chesterfield and looks down at her_.) TREMAYNE. Belinda. BELINDA. Yes, Henry! TREMAYNE. My name is John. BELINDA. Well, you never told me. I had to guess. Everybody thinks they can call me Belinda without giving me the least idea what their own names are. You were saying, John? TREMAYNE. My friends call me Jack. BELINDA. Jack Robinson. That's the man who always goes away so quickly. I hope you're making more of a stay? TREMAYNE (_seizing her by both arms_). Oh, you maddening, maddening woman! BELINDA. Well, I have to keep the conversation going. You do nothing but say "Belinda." TREMAYNE (_taking her hand_). Have you ever loved anybody seriously, Belinda? BELINDA. I don't ever do anything very seriously. The late Mr. Tremayne, my first husband--Jack---- Isn't it funny, _his_ name was Jack--he used to complain about it too sometimes. TREMAYNE (_with conviction_). Silly ass! BELINDA. Ah, I think you are a little hard on the late Mr. Tremayne. TREMAYNE. Belinda, I want you to marry me and forget about him. BELINDA (_happily to herself and lying back_). This is the proposal that those lamb cutlets interrupted this morning. TREMAYNE. Belinda, I love you--do you understand? BELINDA. Suppose my first husband turns up suddenly like--like E. A.? TREMAYNE. Like who? BELINDA. Well, like anybody. TREMAYNE. He won't--I know he won't. Don't you love me enough to risk it, Belinda? BELINDA. I haven't really said I love you at all yet. TREMAYNE. Well, say it now. (BELINDA _looks at him, and then down again_.) You do! Well, I'm going to have a kiss, anyway, (_He kisses her quickly--moves to_ L. _of Chesterfield_.) There! BELINDA (_rising_). O-oh I The late Mr. Tremayne never did that. (_She powders her nose_.)