Belinda (mildly). Well, darling, you knew all the time that I was your wife, and you've been making love to me and leading me on.
Tremayne. That's different.
Belinda (to herself). That's just what the late Mr. Tremayne said, and then he slammed the door and went straight off to the Rocky Mountains and shot bears; and I didn't see him again for eighteen years.
Tremayne (remorsefully). Darling, I was a fool then, and I'm a fool now.
Belinda. I was a fool then, but I'm not such a fool now–I'm not going to let you go. It's quite time I married and settled down.
Tremayne. You darling I (He kisses her.) How did you find out who I was?
Belinda (awkwardly). Well, it was rather curious, darling. (After a pause.) It was April, and I felt all sort of Aprily, and–and–there was the garden all full of daffodils–and–and there was Mr. Baxter–the one we left in the library–knowing all about moles. He's probably got the M. volume down now. Well, we were talking about them one day, and I happened to say that the late Mr. Tremayne–that was you, darling–had rather a peculiar one on his arm. And then he happened to see it this morning and told me about it.
Tremayne. What an extraordinary story!
Belinda. Yes, darling; it's really much more extraordinary than that. I think perhaps I'd better tell you the rest of it another time. (Coaxingly.) Now show me where the nasty lion scratched you.
(Tremayne pulls up his sleeve.) Oh! (She kisses his arm.) You shouldn't have left Chelsea, darling.