Good afternoon, Mrs. Tremayne.
(_She gives her left hand to_ DEVENISH, _who kisses it, and her
right to_ BAXTER, _who shakes it_.)
BELINDA. How nice of you both to come!
BAXTER. Mr. Devenish and I are inseparable--apparently.
BELINDA. You haven't told me what you were doing, Mr. Devenish. Was it
(_plucking an imaginary flower_) "This year, next year?" or "Silk,
satin--"
DEVENISH. My lady, it was even more romantic than that. I have the
honour to announce to your ladyship that Mr. Baxter is to be a sailor.
(_Dances round imitating the hornpipe_.)
BELINDA (_to_ BAXTER). Doesn't he talk nonsense?
BAXTER. He'll grow out of it. I did.
BELINDA (_moving down_ R. _and then to centre towards
hammock_). Oh, I hope not. I love talking nonsense, and I'm ever so
old. (_As they both start forward to protest_.) Now which one of
you will say it first?
DEVENISH. You are as old as the stars and as young as the dawn.
BAXTER. You are ten years younger than I am.
BELINDA. What sweet things to say! I don't know which I like best.
DEVENISH. Where will my lady sit!
BELINDA (_with an exaggerated curtsy_).
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