Devenish (pointing tragically to the table). And to think that I actually sat on that table–no, that seat (he points to the settee R., then he moves up stage between it and the table)–that I sat there with him this morning, and never guessed! Why, ten minutes ago I was asking him for the nuts!
Baxter. Aha, Devenish, you're not so clever as you thought you were.
Devenish (coming quickly to the back of the chair L. of the table). Why, I must have given you the clue myself! He told me he had a scar on his arm, and I never thought any more of it. And then I went away innocently and left you two talking about it.
Belinda (alarmed). A scar on his arm?
Devenish. Where a lion mauled him.
(Belinda gives a little cry and shudder.)
Baxter. It's quite healed up now, Mrs. Tremayne.
Belinda (looking at him admiringly). A lion! What you two have adventured for my sake!
Baxter. I suppose you will admit, Devenish, that I may fairly claim to have won?
(Looking the picture of despair, Devenish drops down L. of the chair, droops his head, raises his arms and lets them fall hopelessly to his sides.)