Baxter. What do you mean, sir?
Devenish. Did you read The Times this month on the new reviews!
Baxter. Well!
Devenish. Oh, nothing. It just said, "Mr. Baxter's statistics are extremely suggestive."
(Baxter makes a gesture of annoyance.)
I haven't read them, so of course I don't know what you've been up to.
Baxter (rising, turning away in disgust and crossing up L). Pah!
Devenish. Poor old Baxter! (Puts book of poems down on table and crosses below chair and gathers a daffodil from a large vase down R. and saying "Poor old Baxter!" ad lib. Baxter moves round back of hammock and to R., collides with Devenish and much annoyed goes down between table and tree towards chair down L.) Baxter–(moving to and leaning against tree R.)
Baxter (turning to Devenish crossly). I wish you wouldn't keep calling me "Baxter."
Devenish. Harold.