DEVENISH (holding up his bouquet to BETTY). See, the dew is yet lingering upon them; how could I let them wait until this afternoon? BETTY. Yes, sir; but I think the mistress is out. DEVENISH. They are not for your mistress; they are for Miss Delia. BETTY. Oh, I beg your pardon, sir. If you will come in, I'll see if I can find her. (She brings him in and goes away to find DELIA.) (DEVENISH tries a number of poses about the room for himself and his bouquet, and finally selects one against the right side of the door by which he has just come in.) [Enter DELIA from the door on the left.] DELIA (shutting the door and going _to_ DEVENISH). Oh, good morning, Mr. Devenish. 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. Miss Delia, if our friendship is to progress at all, it can only be on the distinct understanding that I take no interest whatever in Mr. Baxter's movements. DELIA. 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). Miss Delia, they are for you. DELIA. 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. I'm afraid I'm not a very romantic person. 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. 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. But what about poor Mr. Baxter? DEVENISH (stiffly). I must beg that Mr. Baxter's name be kept out of our conversation. DELIA. But I thought Mr. Baxter and you--do tell me what's happened. I seem to have lost myself. DEVENISH. What has happened, Miss Delia, is that I have learnt at last the secret that my heart has been striving to tell me for weeks past. As soon as I saw that gracious lady, your aunt, I knew that I was in love. Foolishly I took it for granted that it was she for whom my heart was thrilling. How mistaken I was! Directly you came, you opened my eyes, and now-- DELIA. Mr. Devenish, you don't say you're proposing to me? DEVENISH. I am. I feel sure I am. Delia, I love you. DELIA. How exciting of you! DEVENISH (with a modest shrug). It's nothing; I am a poet. DELIA. You really want to marry me? DEVENISH. Such is my earnest wish. DELIA. But what about my aunt? DEVENISH (simply). She will be my aunt-in-law.