BELINDA (winningly). But it's such a pretty garden (turns away, dosing her parasol), isn't it?
TREMAYNE (rather confused). I-I beg your pardon, I-er-- (He is wondering if it can possibly be she. BELINDA thinks his confusion is due to the fact that he is trespassing, and hastens to put him at his ease.)
BELINDA. I should have done the same myself, you know.
TREMAYNE (pulling himself together). Oh, but you mustn't think I just came in because I liked the garden--
BELINDA (clapping her hands). No; but say you do like it, quick.
TREMAYNE. It's lovely and--(He hesitates.)
BELINDA (hopefully). Yes?
TREMAYNE (with conviction). Yes, it's lovely.
BELINDA (with that happy sigh of hers). O-oh! ... Now tell me what really did happen?
TREMAYNE. I was on my way to Marytown--
BELINDA. To where?
TREMAYNE. Marytown.
BELINDA. Oh, you mean Mariton.
TREMAYNE. Do I?
BELINDA. Yes; we always call it Mariton down here. (Earnestly.) You don't mind, do you?
TREMAYNE (smiling). Not a bit.
BELINDA. Just say it--to see if you've got it right.
TREMAYNE. Mariton.
BELINDA (shaking her head). Oh no, that's quite wrong. Try it again (With a rustic accent.) Mariton.
TREMAYNE. Mariton.
BELINDA. Yes, that's much better. ... (As if it were he who had interrupted.) Well, do go on.
TREMAYNE. I'm afraid it isn't much of an apology really. I saw what looked like a private road, but what I rather hoped wasn't, and-- well, I thought I'd risk it. I do hope you'll forgive me.
BELINDA. Oh, but I love people seeing my garden. Are you staying in Mariton?
TREMAYNE. I think so. Oh yes, decidedly.
BELINDA. Well, perhaps the next time the road won't feel so private.
TREMAYNE. How charming of you! (He feels he must know.) Are you Mrs. Tremayne by any chance?
BELINDA. Yes.
TREMAYNE (nodding to himself). Yes.
BELINDA. How did you know?
TREMAYNE (hastily inventing). They use you as a sign-post in the village. Past Mrs. Tremayne's house and then bear to the left--
BELINDA. And you couldn't go past it?
TREMAYNE. I'm afraid I couldn't. Thank you so much for not minding. Well, I must be getting on, I have trespassed quite enough.
BELINDA (regretfully). And you haven't really seen the garden yet.
TREMAYNE. If you won't mind my going on this way, I shall see some more on my way out.
BELINDA. Please do. It likes being looked at. (With the faintest suggestion of demureness) All pretty things do.
TREMAYNE. Thank you very much. Er--(He hesitates.)
BELINDA (helpfully). Yes?
TREMAYNE. I wonder if you'd mind very much if I called one day to thank you formally for the lesson you gave me in pronunciation?
BELINDA (gravely). Yes. I almost think you ought to. I think it's the correct thing to do.
TREMAYNE (contentedly). Thank you very much, Mrs. Tremayne.
BELINDA. You'll come in quite formally by the front-door next time, won't you, because--because that seems the only chance of my getting to know your name.
TREMAYNE. Oh, I beg your pardon. My name is--er--er--Robinson.
BELINDA (laughing). How very odd!
TREMAYNE (startled). Odd?
BELINDA. Yes; we have someone called Robinson staying in the house. I wonder if she is any relation?
TREMAYNE (hastily). Oh no, no. No, she couldn't be. I have no relations called Robinson--not to speak of.
BELINDA (holding out her hand). You must tell me all about your relations when you come and call, Mr. Robinson.
TREMAYNE. I think we can find something better worth talking about than that.
BELINDA. Do you think so? (He says "Yes" with his eyes, bows, and goes off down the garden. BELINDA stays looking after him, then gives that happy sigh of hers, only even more so) O-oh!
[Enter BETTY.]
BETTY. If you please, ma'am, Miss Delia says, are you coming in to tea?
BELINDA (looking straight in front of her, and taking no notice of BETTY, in a happy, dreamy voice). Betty, ... about callers. ... If Mr. Robinson calls--he's the handsome gentleman who hasn't been here before--you will say, "Not at home." And he will say, "Oh!" And you will say, "I beg your pardon, sir, was it Mr. _Robinson_?" And he will say, "Yes!" And you will say, "Oh, I beg your pardon, sir--" (Almost as if she were BETTY, she begins to move towards the house.) "This way--" (she would be smiling an invitation over her shoulder to MR. ROBINSON, if he were there, and she were BETTY)-- "please!" (And the abandoned woman goes in to tea.)
ACT II
[It is morning in BELINDA'S hall, a low-roofed, oak-beamed place, comfortably furnished as a sitting-room. There is an inner and an outer front-door, both of which are open.]
[DEVENISH, who has just rung the bell, is waiting with a bouquet of violets between the two. Midway on the right is a door leading to a small room where hats and coats are kept. A door on the left leads towards the living-rooms.]
BETTY. Good morning, sir.
DEVENISH. Good morning. I am afraid this is an unceremonious hour for a call, but my sense of beauty urged me hither in defiance of convention.
BETTY. Yes, sir.
DEVENISH (holding up his bouquet to BETTY). See, the dew is yet lingering upon them; how could I let them wait until this afternoon?
BETTY. Yes, sir; but I think the mistress is out.
DEVENISH. They are not for your mistress; they are for Miss Delia.
BETTY. Oh, I beg your pardon, sir. If you will come in, I'll see if I can find her. (She brings him in and goes away to find DELIA.)
(DEVENISH tries a number of poses about the room for himself and his bouquet, and finally selects one against the right side of the door by which he has just come in.)
[Enter DELIA from the door on the left.]
DELIA (shutting the door and going to_ DEVENISH). Oh, good morning, Mr. Devenish. I'm afraid my--er--aunt is out.
DEVENISH.