_end of Chesterfield and
leaning over it_.) I know everything about you--everything that
matters.
BELINDA (_leaning back and closing her eyes contentedly_). Tell me
some of them. TREMAYNE (_bending over her earnestly_). Belinda--
BELINDA (_still with her eyes shut_). He's going to propose to me.
I can feel it coming.
TREMAYNE (_starting back_). Confound it! how many men _have_
proposed to you?
BELINDA (_surprised_). Since when?
TREMAYNE. Since your first husband proposed to you.
BELINDA. Oh, I thought you meant this year. (_Sitting up_.) Well
now, let me see. (_Slowly and thoughtfully_.) One. (_She pushes
up her first finger_.) Two. (_She pushes up the second_.) Three.
(_She pushes up the third finger, holds it there for a moment and then
pushes it gently down again_.) No, I don't think that one ought to
count really. (_She pushes up two more fingers and the thumb_.) Three,
four, five--do you want the names or just the total?
TREMAYNE (_moving up_ L. _and then over_ R.). This is horrible.
BELINDA (_innocently_). But anybody can propose. Now if you'd asked
how many I'd accepted--
(_He turns sharply to her--annoyed_.
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