Devenish (moving up to behind table–reproachfully). Oh, I say, and I cut my hair for you the same afternoon. (Turning quickly.) You haven't really told me how you like it yet.
Delia. Oh, how bad of me! You look lovely.
Devenish (sitting at back of the table). And I promised to give up poetry for your sake.
Delia. Perhaps I oughtn't to have asked you that.
Devenish. As far as I'm concerned, Delia, I'll do it gladly, but, of course, one has to think about posterity.
Delia. But you needn't be a poet. You could give posterity plenty to think about if you were a statesman.
Devenish. I don't quite see your objection to poetry.
Delia. You would be about the house so much. I want you to go away every day and do great things, and then come home in the evening and tell me all about it.
Devenish. Then you are thinking of marrying me!
Delia. Well, I was just thinking in case I had to.