TREMAYNE (_as he comes to the foot of the settee_). Oh, we've
finished, thank you.
BELINDA (_going up to the swing doors and opening them_). Isn't it
a wonderful night?--and so warm for April. Delia, you must show Mr.
Robinson the garden by moonlight--it's the only light he hasn't seen it
by.
DEVENISH (_quickly coming to_ R. _back of table_ C.). I don't
think I've ever seen it by moonlight, Miss Delia.
BELINDA (_coming down a little_). I thought poets were always
seeing things by moonlight.
BAXTER (_moving toward_ BELINDA). I was hoping, Mrs. Tremayne,
that--er--perhaps-----
DELIA (_moving quickly to above_ TREMAYNE _and taking his_ L.
_hand, and pulling him up stage to swing doors_). Come along, Mr.
Robinson.
(TREMAYNE _looks at_ BELINDA, _who gives him a nod_. BELINDA
_then moves down_ R.)
TREMAYNE (L. _of_ DELIA). It's very kind of you, Miss Robinson. I
suppose there is no chance of a nightingale?
BELINDA. There ought to be. I ordered one specially for Mr. Devenish.
(DELIA _and_ TREMAYNE _go out together_. BELINDA, _with a
sigh, moves over to the Chesterfield and settles herself comfortably
into it_.
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