Delia (surprised). Good gracious! and I didn't know anything about it. (Coming down to R. of table with vase.) But what about poor Mr. Baxter?
Devenish (stiffly, crossing over to fireplace, very annoyed). I must beg that Mr. Baxter's name be kept out of our conversation.
Delia (going up to table behind Chesterfield up L.). But I thought Mr. Baxter and you were such friends.
(Delia takes water carafe from the table and smiles at Devenish–which he does not see.)
Do tell me what's happened. (Moving down to R. of table C., she sits and arranges the flowers.) I seem to have lost myself.
Devenish (coming to the back of C. table and reclining on it.) What has happened, Miss Delia, is that I have learnt at last the secret that my heart has been striving to tell me for weeks past. As soon as I saw that gracious lady, your aunt, I knew that I was in love. Foolishly I took it for granted that it was she for whom my heart was thrilling. How mistaken I was! Directly you came, you opened my eyes, and now—
Delia. Mr. Devenish, you don't say you're proposing to me?
Devenish. I am. I feel sure I am. (Leaning towards her.) Delia, I love you.
Delia. How exciting of you!
Devenish (with a modest shrug). It's nothing; I am a poet.