DELIA (holding out her hand). Let's go outside; there's a heavenly
moon.
DEVENISH (taking her hand). Moon? Moon? Now where have I heard that
word before?
DELIA. What _do_ you mean?
DEVENISH. I was trying not to be a poet. Well, I'll come with you,
but I shall refuse to look at it. (Putting his left hand behind his
back, he walks slowly out with her, saying to himself) The Prime
Minister then left the House.
[BELINDA and TREMAYNE come from the library.]
BELINDA (as he opens the door). Thank you. I don't think it's
unkind to leave him, do you? He seemed quite happy.
TREMAYNE. I shouldn't have been happy if we'd stayed.
BELINDA (going to the sofa and putting her feet up). Yes, but I was
really thinking of Mr. Baxter.
TREMAYNE. Not of me?
BELINDA. Well, I thought it was Mr. Baxter's turn. Poor man, he's
had a disappointment lately.
TREMAYNE (eagerly). A disappointment?
BELINDA. Yes, he thought I was--younger than I was.
TREMAYNE (smiling to himself). How old are you, Belinda?
BELINDA (dropping her eyes). Twenty-two. (After a pause.) He
thought I was eighteen. Such a disappointment!
TREMAYNE (smiling openly at her). Belinda, how old are you?
BELINDA. Just about the right age, Mr. Robinson.
TREMAYNE. The right age for what?
BELINDA. For this sort of conversation.
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