(BAXTER _and_ DELIA _are just going into the house_.)
BELINDA (_dismissing_ DEVENISH). All right, I'll catch you up. (DEVENISH _goes after the other two_.)
(_Left alone_, BELINDA _laughs happily to herself, and then begins to look rather aimlessly about her. She picks up her sunshade and opens it. She comes to the hammock, picks out her handkerchief, says, "Ah, there you are!" and puts it away. She goes slowly towards the house_. TREMAYNE _enters from_ L. _and with his back to the audience tries latch of imaginary gate below scenic painted gateway_ L. BELINDA _turns her head, hearing imaginary click of the garden gate_ L. _She comes slowly back_ R.C.)
BELINDA (_seeing_ TREMAYNE). Have you lost yourself, or something? No; the latch is this side. ... Yes, that's right.
(TREMAYNE _comes in. He has been knocking about the world for eighteen years, and is very much a man, though he has kept his manners. His hair is greying a little at the sides, and he looks the forty-odd that he is. Without his moustache and beard he is very different from the boy_ BELINDA _married_.)
TREMAYNE ( _with his hat in his hand _). I'm afraid I'm trespassing.
BELINDA (_winningly, moving down_ R. _a little _). But it's such a pretty garden (_turns away, dosing her parasol_), isn't it?
(TREMAYNE, _half recognizing her, moves to back of hammock and leans across to obtain a better view of her_.)
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 (_points_ L.), 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. A piano is heard off playing "Belinda." The tune is continued until the fall of the curtain_.) Are you Mrs. Tremayne by any chance?
BELINDA. Yes.
TREMAYNE (_nodding to himself_). Yes.
BELINDA. How did _you_ know?
TREMAYNE (_hastily inventing, moving down_ L. _below the hammock_). They use you as a sign-post in the village. Past Mrs. Tremayne'a 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. (_Going up to the_ L. _of her_.) 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. (_Turns to go up c_.) 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 (_pointing to_ R. _with her sunshade_) 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.
(_She is highly amused and looks round towards the house, recalling to her mind_ DELIA.)
BELINDA (_laughing_). How very odd!
TREMAYNE (_startled_). Odd?
BELINDA. Yes; we have some one called Robinson (_nodding towards the house_) 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. 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 moves up_ C. _The piano is now forte. BELINDA accompanies him up a little, then stops. He turns in entrance up C., and they exchange glances_. TREMAYNE _exits to_ R., _behind yew hedge. BELINDA stays looking after him, then moves down to back of table and picking up the book of poems, gives that happy sigh of hers, only even more so_.) O-oh!
(_Enter_ BETTY _from porch_.)
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 (_puts book down_)--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