Tremayne. Well, that accounts for him. Now what about Baxter?
Belinda. I thought I told you. Deeply disappointed to find that I was four years older than he expected, Mr. Baxter hurried from the drawing-room and buried himself in a column of the Encyclopedia Britannica.
Tremayne. Well, that settles Baxter. Are there any more men in the neighbourhood?
Belinda (shaking her head). Isn't it awful? I've only had those two for the last three weeks.
(Tremayne sits on the back of the Chesterfield and looks down at her.)
Tremayne. Belinda.
Belinda. Yes, Henry!
Tremayne. My name is John.
Belinda. Well, you never told me. I had to guess. Everybody thinks they can call me Belinda without giving me the least idea what their own names are. You were saying, John?
Tremayne. My friends call me Jack.