But one likes to flatter oneself that in one's own case
it may be true; and so--
BELINDA. And so the third Mr. Robinson--?
BAXTER. Something for which I cannot altogether account inspires me with
hope. He is, I have discovered, staying at Mariton. This afternoon I go
to look for him.
BELINDA (_to herself_). Mariton! How funny! I wonder if it's the
same one.
BAXTER. What one?
BELINDA. Oh, just one of the ones. (_Gratefully_.) Mr. Baxter, you
are doing all this for _me_.
BAXTER. Pray do not mention it. I don't know if it's Devonshire
(_going to and sitting_ L. _of_ BELINDA), or the time of the
year, or the sort of atmosphere you create, Mrs. Tremayne, but I feel an
entirely different man. There is something in the air which--yes, I
shall certainly go over to Mariton this afternoon.
BELINDA (_gravely_). I have had the same feeling sometimes, Mr.
Baxter. I am not always the staid respectable matron which I appear to
you to be. Sometimes I--(_She looks absently at the watch on her
wrist_.) Good gracious!
BAXTER (_alarmed_). What is it!
BELINDA (_looking anxiously from the door to him_).
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