DELIA. Claude--Mr. Devenish. Of course, he's very young. BELINDA. So was Keats, darling. DELIA. I don't think Claude has had Keats' advantages. Keats started life as an apothecary. BELINDA. So much nicer than a chemist. DELIA. Now, Claude started with nothing to do. BELINDA (mildly). Do you always call him Claude, darling? I hope you aren't going to grow into a flirt like that horrid Mrs. Tremayne. DELIA. Silly mother! (Seriously) I don't think he'll ever be any good till he really gets work. Did you notice his hair this evening? BELINDA (dreamily). Whose, dear? DELIA. Mummy, look me in the eye and tell me you are not being bad. BELINDA (innocently). Bad, darling? DELIA. You've made Mr. Robinson fall in love with you. BELINDA (happily). Have I? DELIA. Yes; it's serious this time. He's not like the other two. BELINDA. However did you know that? DELIA. Oh, I know. BELINDA. Darling, I believe you've grown up. It's quite time I settled down. DELIA. With Mr. Robinson? (BELINDA looks thoughtfully at DELIA for a little time and then sits up.) BELINDA (mysteriously). Delia, are you prepared for a great secret to be revealed to you? DELIA (childishly). Oh, I love secrets. BELINDA (reproachfully). Darling, you mustn't take it like that. This is a great, deep, dark secret; you'll probably need your sal volatile. DELIA (excitedly). Go on! BELINDA. Well--(Looking round the room.) Shall we have the lights down a little? DELIA. Go _on_, mummy. BELINDA. Well, Mr. Robinson is--(impressively)--is not quite the Robinson he appears to be. DELIA. Yes? BELINDA. In fact, child, he is--Hadn't you better come and hold your mother's hand? DELIA (struggling with some emotion). Go _on_. BELINDA. Well, Mr. Robinson is a--sort of relation of yours; in fact--(playing with her rings and looking down coyly)--he is your--father. (She looks up at DELIA to see how the news is being received.) Dear one, this is not a matter for mirth. DELIA (coming over and kissing her). Darling, it is lovely, isn't it? I am laughing because I am so happy. BELINDA. Aren't you surprised? DELIA. No. You see, Claude told me this morning. He found out just before Mr. Baxter. BELINDA. Well! Every one seems to have known except me. DELIA. Didn't you see how friendly father and I got at dinner? I thought I'd better start breaking the ice--because I suppose he'll be kissing me directly. BELINDA. Say you like him. DELIA. I think he's going to be awfully nice. Does he know you know? (She goes back to her seat.) BELINDA. Not yet. Just at present I've rather got Mr. Baxter on my mind. I suppose, darling, you wouldn't like him as well as Mr. Devenish! (Pathetically.) You see, they're so used to going about together. DELIA. Claude is quite enough.