(Enter Delia from the door R.)
Delia (shutting the door and going to Devenish). Oh, good morning, Mr. Devenish.
[Illustration :]
(Devenish kisses her hand.)
I'm afraid my–er–aunt is out.
Devenish. I know, Miss Delia, I know.
Delia. She'll be so sorry to have missed you. It is her day for you, isn't it?
Devenish. Her day for me?
Delia. Yes; Mr. Baxter generally comes to-morrow, doesn't he?
Devenish (jealously). Miss Delia, if our friendship is to progress at all, it can only be on the distinct understanding that I take no interest whatever (coming to back of table C.) in Mr. Baxter's movements.