Devenish--you mustn't!"--_when she sees_ DELIA.)
Delia! (_They kiss each other frantically_.)
DELIA. Well, mummy, aren't you glad to see me?
BELINDA. My darling child!
DELIA. Say you're glad.
BELINDA (_sitting up_). My darling, I'm absolutely--(DELIA
_crosses round to_ L. _of hammock_.) Hold the hammock while I
get out, dear; we don't want an accident. (DELIA _holds the_ L.
_end of it and_ BELINDA _struggles out, leaving the magazine and
her handkerchief in the hammock_.) They're all right when you're
there, and they'll bear two tons, but they're horrid getting in and out
of. (_Kissing her again_.) Darling, it really _is_ you?
DELIA. Oh, it is jolly seeing you again. I believe you were asleep.
BELINDA (_with dignity_). Certainly not, child. I was reading
_The Nineteenth Century_--(_with an air_)--and after. (_Earnestly_)
Darling, wasn't it next Thursday you were coming back?
DELIA. No, this Thursday, silly.
BELINDA (_penitently_). Oh, my darling, and I was going over to
Paris to bring you home.
DELIA. I half expected you.
BELINDA. So confusing their both being called Thursday.
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