Tremayne (above table C.). Not of me?
Belinda. Well, I thought it was Mr. Baxter's turn. Poor man, he's had a disappointment lately.
Tremayne (coming to R. of the Chesterfield–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.