Belinda (with a happy sigh). O-oh! (She sinks back into her chair.)
Delia (taking off her coat). Is it like the Count at Scarborough?
Belinda (surprised and pained). My darling, what do you mean?
Delia. Don't you remember the Count who kept proposing to you at Scarborough? I do. (Places coat on hammock.)
Belinda (reproachfully). Dear one, you were the merest child, paddling about on the beach and digging castles.
Delia (smiling to herself). I was old enough to notice the Count.
Belinda (sadly). And I'd bought her a perfectly new spade! How one deceives oneself!
Delia (at table and leaning across, with hands on table). And then there was the M.P. who proposed at Windermere.
Belinda. Yes, dear, but it wasn't seconded–I mean he never got very far with it.
Delia. And the artist in Wales.