DEVENISH (_pained_). Oh, my lady, I'm afraid that is a cockney
rhyme.
BELINDA. How thrilling! I've never been to Hampstead Heath.
DEVENISH. "Belinda." It is far too beautiful to rhyme with anything but
itself.
BELINDA. Fancy! But what about Tremayne? (_Singing_.) Oh, I am Mrs.
Tremayne, and I don't want to marry again.
DEVENISH (_protesting_). My lady!
BAXTER (_protesting_). Belinda!
BELINDA (_pointing excitedly to_ BAXTER). There, that's the first
time he's called me Belinda! This naughty boy--(_indicating_
DEVENISH)--is always doing it--by accident.
DEVENISH. Are you serious?
BELINDA. Not as a rule.
DEVENISH. You're not going to marry again?
BELINDA. Well, who could I marry?
DEVENISH and BAXTER (_together_). Me!
BELINDA (_dropping her eyes modestly_). But this is England.
BAXTER (_rising and taking off his hat, which he places on table, and
going up to_ BELINDA). Mrs. Tremayne, I claim the right of age--of my
greater years--to speak first.
DEVENISH. Mrs. Tremayne, I--
BELINDA (_kindly to_ DEVENISH). You can speak afterwards, Mr.
Devenish. It's so awkward when you both speak together.
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