DEVENISH (with a bow). Miss Delia, they are for you.
DELIA. Oh, how nice of you! But I'm afraid I oughtn't to take them from you under false pretences; I don't shrink.
DEVENISH. A fanciful way of putting it, perhaps. They are none the less for you.
DELIA. Well, it's awfully kind of you. I'm afraid I'm not a very romantic person. Aunt Belinda does all the romancing in our family.
DEVENISH. Your aunt is a very remarkable woman.
DELIA. She is. Don't you dare to say a word against her.
DEVENISH. My dear Miss Delia, nothing could be further from my thoughts. Why, am I not indebted to her for that great happiness which has come to me in these last few days?
DELIA (surprised). Good gracious! and I didn't know anything about it. But what about poor Mr. Baxter?
DEVENISH (stiffly). I must beg that Mr. Baxter's name be kept out of our conversation.
DELIA. But I thought Mr. Baxter and you—do tell me what's happened. I seem to have lost myself.