DEVENISH. Well, if you're not quite sure which it is, it's much safer to
call you Delia.
DELIA (_smiling_). Well, perhaps it is.
DEVENISH. And if I did propose to you, you haven't answered
DELIA (_sitting in the chair_ R. _of the table_). If you want
an answer now, it's no; but if you like to wait till next April-----
DEVENISH (_moving up to behind table--reproachfully_). Oh, I say,
and I cut my hair for you the same afternoon. (_Turning quickly_.)
You haven't really told me how you like it yet.
DELIA. Oh, how bad of me! You look lovely.
DEVENISH (_sitting at back of the table_). And I promised to give
up poetry for your sake.
DELIA. Perhaps I oughtn't to have asked you that.
DEVENISH. As far as I'm concerned, Delia, I'll do it gladly, but, of
course, one has to think about posterity.
DELIA. But you needn't be a poet. You could give posterity plenty to
think about if you were a statesman.
DEVENISH. I don't quite see your objection to poetry.
DELIA. You would be about the house so much. I want you to go away every
day and do great things, and then come home in the evening and tell me
all about it.
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