The Red House Mystery and Other Novels. A. A. Milne

are you doing, Mr. Devenish!

      DEVENISH (_throwing away the flower and bowing very low_). My lady.

      (BAXTER _rises quickly_.)

      BAXTER (removing his bowler-hat stiffly). Good afternoon, Mrs. Tremayne.

      (_She gives her left hand to_ DEVENISH, _who kisses it, and her right to_ BAXTER, _who shakes it_.)

      BELINDA. How nice of you both to come!

      BAXTER. Mr. Devenish and I are inseparable--apparently.

      BELINDA. You haven't told me what you were doing, Mr. Devenish. Was it (_plucking an imaginary flower_) "This year, next year?" or "Silk, satin--"

      DEVENISH. My lady, it was even more romantic than that. I have the honour to announce to your ladyship that Mr. Baxter is to be a sailor. (_Dances round imitating the hornpipe_.)

      BELINDA (_to_ BAXTER). Doesn't he talk nonsense?

      BAXTER. He'll grow out of it. I did.

      BELINDA (_moving down_ R. _and then to centre towards hammock_). Oh, I hope not. I love talking nonsense, and I'm ever so old. (_As they both start forward to protest_.) Now which one of you will say it first?

      DEVENISH. You are as old as the stars and as young as the dawn.

      BAXTER. You are ten years younger than I am.

      BELINDA. What sweet things to say! I don't know which I like best.

      DEVENISH. Where will my lady sit!

      BELINDA (_with an exaggerated curtsy_). I will recline in the hammock, an it please thee, my lord------

      (BAXTER _goes to the right of the hammock, saying_ "Allow me." DEVENISH _moves to the left of the hammock and holds it, takes up a cushion which_ BAXTER _snatches from him and places in hammock again_.)

      --only it's rather awkward getting in, Mr. Baxter. Perhaps you'd both better look at the tulips for a moment.

      BAXTER. Oh--ah--yes. (_Crosses down_ R., _turns his back to the hammock and examines the flowers_.)

      DEVENISH (leaning over her). If only------

      BELINDA. You'd better not say anything, Mr. Devenlsh. Keep it for your next volume. (_He turns away and examines flowers on_ L. _She sits on hammock_.) One, two, three--(_throws her legs over_)-- that was better than last time. (_They turn round to see her safely in the hammock_. DEVENISH _leans against the_ L. _tree at her feet, and_ BAXTER _draws the deck-chair from the right side of the table and turns it round towards her. He presses his hat more firmly on and sits down_.) I wonder if either of you can guess what I've been reading this afternoon!

      DEVENISH (_looking at her lovingly_). I know.

      BELINDA (_giving him a fleeting look_). How did you know?

      DEVENISH. Well, I-----

      BELINDA (_to_ BAXTER). Yes, Mr. Baxter, it was your article I was reading. If you'd come five minutes earlier you'd have found me wrestling--I mean revelling in it.

      BAXTER. I am very greatly honoured, Mrs. Tremayne. Ah--it seemed to me a very interesting curve showing the rise and fall of-----

      BELINDA. I hadn't got up to the curves. They _are_ interesting, aren't they? They are really more in Mr. Devenish's line. (_To_ DEVENISH.) Mr. Devenish, it was a great disappointment to me that all the poems in your book seemed to be written to somebody else.

      DEVENISH. It was before I met you, lady. They were addressed to the goddess of my imagination. It is only in these last few weeks that I have discovered her.

      BELINDA. And discovered she was dark and not fair.

      DEVENISH. She will be dark in my next volume.

      BELINDA. Oh, how nice of her!

      BAXTER (_kindly_). You should write a real poem to Mrs. Tremayne.

      BELINDA (_excitedly_). Oh do! "To Belinda." I don't know what rhymes, except cinder. You could say your heart was like a cinder--all burnt up.

      DEVENISH (_pained_). Oh, my lady, I'm afraid that is a cockney rhyme.

      BELINDA. How thrilling! I've never been to Hampstead Heath.

      DEVENISH. "Belinda." It is far too beautiful to rhyme with anything but itself.

      BELINDA. Fancy! But what about Tremayne? (_Singing_.) Oh, I am Mrs. Tremayne, and I don't want to marry again.

      DEVENISH (_protesting_). My lady!

      BAXTER (_protesting_). Belinda!

      BELINDA (_pointing excitedly to_ BAXTER). There, that's the first time he's called me Belinda! This naughty boy--(_indicating_ DEVENISH)--is always doing it--by accident.

      DEVENISH. Are you serious?

      BELINDA. Not as a rule.

      DEVENISH. You're not going to marry again?

      BELINDA. Well, who could I marry?

      DEVENISH and BAXTER (_together_). Me!

      BELINDA (_dropping her eyes modestly_). But this is England.

      BAXTER (_rising and taking off his hat, which he places on table, and going up to_ BELINDA). Mrs. Tremayne, I claim the right of age--of my greater years--to speak first.

      DEVENISH. Mrs. Tremayne, I--

      BELINDA (_kindly to_ DEVENISH). You can speak afterwards, Mr. Devenish. It's so awkward when you both speak together. (_To_ BAXTER, _giving encouragement_.) Yes?

      BAXTER (_moving down a little and then returning to_ BELINDA). Mrs. Tremayne, I am a man of substantial position--(DEVENISH _sniggers-- to_ BAXTER'S _great annoyance_.) and perhaps I may say of some repute in serious circles.

      (DEVENISH _sniggers again_.)

      All that I have, whether of material or mental endowment, I lay at your feet, together with an admiration which I cannot readily put into words. As my wife I think you would be happy, and I feel that with you by my side I could achieve even greater things.

      BELINDA. How sweet of you! But I ought to tell you that I'm no good at figures.

      DEVENISH (_protesting_). My lady--

      BELINDA. I don't mean what you mean, Mr. Devenish. You wait till it's your turn. (_To_ BAXTER.) Yes?

      BAXTER (_very formally_). I ask you to marry me, Belinda.

      BELINDA (_settling herself happily and closing her eyes_). O-oh!... Now it's _your_ turn, Mr. Devenish.

      DEVENISH (_excitedly_). Money--thank Heaven, I have no money. Reputation--thank Heaven, I have no reputation.

      (BAXTER, _very annoyed, moves down and sits on deck-chair_.)

      What can I offer you? Dreams--nothing but dreams. Come with me and I will show you the world through my dreams. What can I give you? Youth, freedom, beauty--

      BAXTER. Debts.

      BELINDA (_still with her eyes shut_). You mustn't interrupt, Mr. Baxter.