(They stand before her guiltily and have nothing to say.)
Belinda (with a shrug). Well, I shall have to marry somebody else, that's all.
Baxter (moving to below table). Who? Who?
Belinda. I suppose Mr. Robinson. After all, if I am Delia's mother, and Mr. Baxter says that Mr. Robinson's her father, it's about time we were married.
Devenish (eagerly). Mrs. Tremayne, what fools we are! He is your husband all the time!
Belinda. Yes.
Baxter (moving up to the R. of Belinda). You've had a husband all the time?
Belinda (apologetically). I lost him; it wasn't my fault.
Baxter. Really, this is very confusing. I don't know where I am. I gather–I am to gather, it seems, that you are no longer eligible as a possible wife?
Belinda. I am afraid not, Mr. Baxter.