DEVENISH. Then you _are_ thinking of marrying me!
DELIA. Well, I was just thinking in case I had to.
DEVENISH (_he rises and taking her hands, raises her from the chair.
She backs a step to_ R.). Do. It would be rather fun if you did. And
look here--(_he pulls her gently back. They both sit on the table. He
places his arm round her waist_)--I _will_ be a statesman, if
you like, and go up to Downing Street every day, and come back in the
evening and tell you all about it.
DELIA. How nice of you!
DEVENISH (_magnificently, holding up his_ L. _hand to
Heaven_). Farewell, Parnassus!
DELIA (_pulling down his hand_). What does that mean?
DEVENISH. Well, it means that I've chucked poetry. A statesman's life
is the life for me; behold Mr. Devenish, the new M.P.--(_she holds up
her_ L. _hand admonishingly and he laughs apologetically _)--no,
look here, that was quite accidental.
DELIA (_smiling at him_). I believe I shall really like you when I
get to know you.
DEVENISH. I don't know if it's you, or Devonshire, or the fact that I've
had my hair cut, but I feel quite a different being from what I was
three days ago.
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