The Red House Mystery and Other Novels. A. A. Milne
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I know, Miss Delia, I know.
DELIA. She'll be so sorry to have missed you. It is her day for you, isn't it?
DEVENISH. Her day for me?
DELIA. Yes; Mr. Baxter generally comes to-morrow, doesn't he?
DEVENISH. Miss Delia, if our friendship is to progress at all, it can only be on the distinct understanding that I take no interest whatever in Mr. Baxter's movements.
DELIA. Oh, I'm so sorry; I thought you knew. What lovely flowers! Are they for my aunt?
DEVENISH. To whom does one bring violets? To modest, shrinking, tender youth.
DELIA. I don't think we have anybody here like that.
DEVENISH (with a bow). Miss Delia, they are for you.
DELIA. Oh, how nice of you! But I'm afraid I oughtn't to take them from you under false pretences; I don't shrink.
DEVENISH. A fanciful way of putting it, perhaps. They are none the less for you.
DELIA. Well, it's awfully kind of you. I'm afraid I'm not a very romantic person. Aunt Belinda does all the romancing in our family.
DEVENISH. Your aunt is a very remarkable woman.
DELIA. She is. Don't you dare to say a word against her.
DEVENISH. My dear Miss Delia, nothing could be further from my thoughts. Why, am I not indebted to her for that great happiness which has come to me in these last few days?
DELIA (surprised). Good gracious! and I didn't know anything about it. But what about poor Mr. Baxter?
DEVENISH (stiffly). I must beg that Mr. Baxter's name be kept out of our conversation.
DELIA. But I thought Mr. Baxter and you--do tell me what's happened. I seem to have lost myself.
DEVENISH. What has happened, Miss Delia, is that I have learnt at last the secret that my heart has been striving to tell me for weeks past. As soon as I saw that gracious lady, your aunt, I knew that I was in love. Foolishly I took it for granted that it was she for whom my heart was thrilling. How mistaken I was! Directly you came, you opened my eyes, and now--
DELIA. Mr. Devenish, you don't say you're proposing to me?
DEVENISH. I am. I feel sure I am. Delia, I love you.
DELIA. How exciting of you!
DEVENISH (with a modest shrug). It's nothing; I am a poet.
DELIA. You really want to marry me?
DEVENISH. Such is my earnest wish.
DELIA. But what about my aunt?
DEVENISH (simply). She will be my aunt-in-law.
DELIA. She'll be rather surprised.
DEVENISH. Delia, I will be frank with you. I admit that I made Mrs. Tremayne an offer of marriage.
DELIA (excitedly). You really did? Was it that first afternoon I came?
DEVENISH. Yes.
DELIA. Oh, I wish I'd been there!
DEVENISH (with dignity). It is not my custom to propose in the presence of a third party. It is true that on the occasion you mention a man called Baxter was on the lawn, but I regarded him no more than the old apple-tree or the flower-beds, or any other of the fixtures.
DELIA. What did she say?
DEVENISH. She accepted me conditionally.
DELIA. Oh, do tell me!
DEVENISH. It is rather an unhappy story. This man called Baxter in his vulgar way also made a proposal of marriage. Mrs. Tremayne was gracious enough to imply that she would marry whichever one of us fulfilled a certain condition.
DELIA. How sweet of her!
DEVENISH. It is my earnest hope, Miss Delia, that the man called Baxter will be the victor. As far as is consistent with honour, I shall endeavour to let Mr. Baxter (banging the table with his hand) win.
DELIA. What was the condition?
DEVENISH. That I am not at liberty to tell. It is, I understand, to be a surprise for you.
DELIA. How exciting! ... Mr. Devenish, you have been very frank. May I be equally so? (DEVENISH bows.) Why do you wear your hair so long?
DEVENISH (pleased). You have noticed it?
DELIA. Well, yes, I have.
DEVENISH. I wear it so to express my contempt for the conventions of so-called society.
DELIA. I always thought that people wore it very very short if they despised the conventions of society.
DEVENISH. I think that the mere fact that my hair annoys Mr. Baxter is sufficient justification for its length.
DELIA. But if it annoys me too?
DEVENISH (heroically). It shall go.
DELIA (apologetically). I told you I wasn't a very romantic person, didn't I? (Kindly.) You can always grow it again if you fall in love with somebody else.
DEVENISH. That is cruel of you, Delia. I shall never fall in love again.
[Enter BELINDA in a hat.]
BELINDA. Why, it's Mr. Devenish! How nice of you to come so early in the morning! How is Mr. Baxter?
DEVENISH. I do not know, Mrs. Tremayne.
BELINDA (to DELIA). I got most of the things, Delia. (To DEVENISH.) "The things," Mr. Devenish, is my rather stuffy way of referring to all the delightful poems that you are going to eat to-night.
DEVENISH. I am looking forward to it immensely, Mrs. Tremayne.
BELINDA. I do hope I've got all your and Mr. Baxter's favourite dishes.
DEVENISH. I'm afraid Mr. Baxter and I are not likely to appreciate the same things.
BELINDA (coyly). Oh, Mr. Devenish! And you were so unanimous a few days ago.
DELIA. I think Mr. Devenish was referring entirely to things to eat.
BELINDA. I felt quite sad when I was buying the lamb cutlets. To think that, only a few days before, they had been frisking about with their mammas, and having poems written about them by Mr. Devenish. There! I'm giving away the whole dinner. Delia, take him away before I tell him any more. We must keep some surprises for him.
DELIA (to DEVENISH as she picks up the flowers). Come along, Mr. Devenish.
BELINDA (wickedly). Are those my flowers, Mr. Devenish?
DEVENISH (after a little hesitation, with a bow which might refer to either of them). They are for the most beautiful lady in the land.
BELINDA. Oh, how nice of you!
[DEVENISH follows DELIA out through the door on the left.]
BELINDA (unpinning her hat before