DELIA. Enoch Arden, darling.
BELINDA. It's very confusing their having the same initials. Perhaps I'd better call them both E. A. in future and then I shall be safe. Well, anyhow it would be awkward, darling, wouldn't it? Not that I should know him from Adam after all these years—except for a mole on his left arm.
DELIA. Perhaps Adam had a mole.
BELINDA. No, darling; you're thinking of Noah. He had two.
DELIA (thoughtfully). I wonder what would happen if you met somebody whom you really did fall in love with?
BELINDA (reproachfully). Now you're being serious, and it's April.
DELIA. Aren't these two—the present two—serious?
BELINDA. Oh no! They think they are, but they aren't a bit, really. Besides, I'm doing them such a lot of good. I'm sure they'd hate to marry me, but they love to think they're in love with me, and—I love it, and—and they love it, and—and we all love it.
DELIA. You really are the biggest, darlingest baby who ever lived. (Kisses her.) Do say I shan't spoil your lovely times.
BELINDA (surprised). Spoil them? Why, you'll make them more lovely than ever.