Baxter (moving toward Belinda). I was hoping, Mrs. Tremayne, that–er–perhaps—
Delia (moving quickly to above Tremayne and taking his L. hand, and pulling him up stage to swing doors). Come along, Mr. Robinson.
(Tremayne looks at Belinda, who gives him a nod. Belinda then moves down R.)
Tremayne (L. of Delia). It's very kind of you, Miss Robinson. I suppose there is no chance of a nightingale?
Belinda. There ought to be. I ordered one specially for Mr. Devenish.
(Delia and Tremayne go out together. Belinda, with a sigh, moves over to the Chesterfield and settles herself comfortably into it. Devenish, annoyed by Tremayne's attentions to Delia, crosses up angrily and looks off through the window up L. above fireplace, then comes down L. of the Chesterfield to the front of the fireplace. Baxter moves up to the swing doors angrily watching Delia and Tremayne, then moves to the window R. and looks off. Betty then enters with a salver from R. She moves by the back of the settee to the back of the table C., picks up the coffee-cups and goes out R. Baxter then moves over to the window facing the audience, up L. He looks off, then comes down to the R. of Belinda.)
Now we're together again. Well, Mr. Devenish?
Devenish. Er–I—
Belinda. No; I think I'll let Mr. Baxter speak first. I know he's longing to.
Baxter (leaning on the back of the chair L. of table–he clears his throat). H'r'm! Mrs. Tremayne, I beg formally to claim your hand.