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 sofa 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. 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. Has he been dead long? BELINDA. Dead to me. TREMAYNE. You quarrelled? BELINDA. Yes. It was his fault entirely. TREMAYNE. I'm sure it was. BELINDA. How sweet of you to say that! TREMAYNE. Belinda, I want you to marry me and forget about him. BELINDA (happily to herself). 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 comes round the sofa and kisses her quickly.) There! BELINDA (rising). O-oh! The late Mr. Tremayne never did that. TREMAYNE. I have already told you that he was a silly ass. (Sitting down on the sofa) Belinda--