BELINDA (_hurt_). If he didn't want to stay for _me, _I didn't want him to stay for _you_. (_Penitently_.) Forgive me, darling, but I didn't know you very well then. We've been very happy together, haven't we? DELIA (_going to the hammock, sitting in it and dangling her legs_). I should think we have. BELINDA (_leaning back in chair_). I don't want to deny you anything, and, of course, if you'd like a stepfather (_looking down modestly_) or two-- DELIA. Oh, you _have_ been enjoying yourself. BELINDA. Only you see how awkward it would be if Jack turned up in the middle of the wedding, like--like Eugene Aram. DELIA. Enoch Arden, darling. BELINDA. It's very confusing their having the same initials. Perhaps I'd better call them both E. A. in future and then I shall be safe. Well, anyhow it would be awkward, darling, wouldn't it? Not that I should know him from Adam after all these years--except for a mole on his left arm. DELIA. Perhaps Adam had a mole. BELINDA. No, darling; you're thinking of Noah. He had two. DELIA (_thoughtfully_). I wonder what would happen if you met somebody whom you really _did_ fall in love with? BELINDA (_reproachfully_). Now you're being serious, and it's April. DELIA. Aren't these two--the present two--serious? BELINDA. Oh no! They think they are, but they aren't a bit, really. Besides, I'm doing them such a lot of good. I'm sure they'd hate to marry me, but they love to think they're in love with me, and--_I_ love it, and--and _they_ love it, and--and we _all_ love it. DELIA (_rising and crossing to_ BELINDA). You really are the biggest, darlingest baby who ever lived. (_Kisses her_.) Do say I shan't spoil your lovely times. BELINDA (_surprised_). Spoil them? Why, you'll make them more lovely than ever. DELIA (_turning away and sitting on table_). Well, but do they know you have a grown-up daughter? BELINDA (_suddenly realizing and sitting up_). Oh! DELIA. It doesn't really matter, because you don't look a day more than thirty. BELINDA (_absently_). No. (_Hurriedly_.) I mean, how sweet of you--only---- DELIA. What! BELINDA (_playing with her rings_). Well, one of them, Mr. Baxter-- Harold--(_she looks quickly up at_ DELIA _and down again in pretty affectation, but she is really laughing at herself all the time_) he writes statistical articles for the Reviews--percentages and all those things. He's just the sort of man, if he knew that I was your mother, to work it out that I was more than thirty. The other one, Mr. Devenish--Claude--(_she looks up and down as before_) he's rather, rather poetical. He thinks I came straight from heaven--last week. DELIA (_laughing and jumping up and crossing below deck-chair to_ R. _towards house_). I think _I'd_ better go straight back to Paris.