(Betty gives her "The Nineteenth Century" Magazine.)
–yes, that's the one. I'd better have that too; I'm just at the most exciting place. You shall have it after me, Betty.
Betty. Is that all, ma'am?
Belinda. Yes, that really is all.
(Betty goes into the house.)
Belinda (reading to herself very pronouncedly). "It is a matter of grave concern to all serious students of social problems–" (Putting the review down in hammock and shaking her head gently.) But not in April. (Lazily opening the book and reading.) "Tell me where is love"–well, that's the question, isn't it? (She lies back in the hammock lazily and the book of poems falls from her to the ground. Delia comes into the garden, from Paris. She is decidedly a modern girl, pretty and self-possessed. Her hair is half-way up; waiting for her birthday, perhaps. She sees her mother suddenly, stops, and then goes on tiptoe to the head of the hammock. She smiles and kisses her mother on the forehead. Belinda, looking supremely unconscious, goes on sleeping. Delia kisses her lightly again. Belinda wakes up with an extraordinarily natural start, and is just about to say, "Oh, Mr. Devenish–you mustn't!"–when she sees Delia.) Delia! (They kiss each other frantically.)
Delia. Well, mummy, aren't you glad to see me?
Belinda. My darling child!
Delia. Say you're glad.
Belinda (sitting up). My darling, I'm absolutely–(Delia crosses round to L. of hammock.) Hold the hammock while I get out, dear; we don't want an accident. (Delia holds the L. end of it and Belinda struggles out, leaving the magazine and her handkerchief in the hammock.) They're all right when you're there, and they'll bear two tons, but they're horrid getting in and out of. (Kissing her again.) Darling, it really is you?