BELINDA (giving him a fleeting look). How did you know? (to BAXTER). Yes, Mr. Baxter, it was your article I was reading. If you'd come five minutes earlier you'd have found me wrestling--I mean revelling in it. BAXTER. I am very greatly honoured, Mrs. Tremayne. Ah--it seemed to me a very interesting curve showing the rise and fall of-- BELINDA. I hadn't got up to the curves. They _are_ interesting, aren't they? They are really more in Mr. Devenish's line. (To DEVENISH.) Mr. Devenish, it was a great disappointment to me that all the poems in your book seemed to be written to somebody else. DEVENISH. It was before I met you, lady. They were addressed to the goddess of my imagination. It is only in these last few weeks that I have discovered her. BELINDA. And discovered she was dark and not fair. DEVENISH. She will be dark in my next volume. BELINDA. Oh, how nice of her! BAXTER (kindly). You should write a real poem to Mrs. Tremayne. BELINDA (excitedly). Oh do! "To Belinda." I don't know what rhymes, except cinder. You could say your heart was like a cinder--all burnt up. DEVENISH (pained). Oh, my lady, I'm afraid that is a cockney rhyme. BELINDA. How thrilling! I've never been to Hampstead Heath. DEVENISH. "Belinda." It is far too beautiful to rhyme with anything but itself. BELINDA. Fancy! But what about Tremayne? (Singing.) Oh, I am Mrs. Tremayne, and I don't want to marry again. DEVENISH (protesting). My lady! BAXTER (protesting). Belinda! BELINDA (pointing excitedly to BAXTER). There, that's the first time he's called me Belinda! DEVENISH. Are you serious? BELINDA. Not as a rule. DEVENISH. You're not going to marry again? BELINDA. Well, who could I marry? DEVENISH and BAXTER (together). Me! BELINDA (dropping her eyes modestly). But this is England. BAXTER. Mrs. Tremayne, I claim the right of age--of my greater years--to speak first. DEVENISH. Mrs. Tremayne, I-- BELINDA (kindly to DEVENISH). You can speak afterwards, Mr. Devenish. It's so awkward when you both speak together. BAXTER. Mrs. Tremayne, I am a man of substantial position, and perhaps I may say of some repute in serious circles. All that I have, whether of material or mental endowment, I lay at your feet, together with an admiration which I cannot readily put into words. As my wife I think you would be happy, and I feel that with you by my side I could achieve even greater things. BELINDA. How sweet of you! But I ought to tell you that I'm no good at figures. DEVENISH (protesting). My lady-- BELINDA. I don't mean what you mean, Mr. Devenish. You wait till it's your turn. (To BAXTER.) Yes? BAXTER. I ask you to marry me, Belinda. BELINDA (settling herself happily and closing her eyes). O-oh!... Now it's _your_ turn, Mr. Devenish.