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