BAXTER. Yes, but still—
BELINDA. S'sh! here is Miss Robinson. If Mr. Devenish will hold the hammock while I alight—we don't want an accident—I can introduce you. (He helps her to get out.) Thank you. Delia darling, this is Mr. Baxter,—and Mr. Devenish. My niece, Miss Robinson—
DELIA. How do you do?
BELINDA. Miss Robinson has just come over from France. Mon Dieu, quel pays!
BAXTER. I hope you had a good crossing, Miss Robinson.
DELIA. Oh, I never mind about the crossing. Aunt Belinda—(She stops and smiles.)
BELINDA. Yes, dear?
DELIA. I believe tea is almost ready. I want mine, and I'm sure Mr. Baxter's hungry. Mr. Devenish scorns food, I expect.
DEVENISH (hurt). Why do you say that?
DELIA. Aren't you a poet?