Tremayne. Shall I tell you how old you are?
Belinda. Do you mean in figures or–poetically?
Tremayne. I meant—
Belinda. Mr. Devenish said I was as old as the–now, I must get this the right way round–as old as the—
Tremayne. I don't want to talk about Mr. Devenish.
Belinda (with a sigh). Nobody ever does–except Mr. Devenish. As old as the stars, and as young as the dawn. (Settling herself cosily.) I think that's rather a nice age to be, don't you?
Tremayne. A very nice age to be.
Belinda. It's a pity he's thrown me over for Delia; I shall miss that sort of thing rather. You don't say those sort of things about your aunt-in-law–not so often.
Tremayne (eagerly). He really is in love with Miss Robinson!
Belinda. Oh yes. I expect he is out in the moonlight with her now, comparing her to Diana.