BELINDA (after a pause). Mr. Baxter—Mr. Devenish, I have something to tell you. (Penitently.) I have not been quite frank with you. I think you both ought to know that—I—I made a mistake. Delia is not my niece; she is my daughter.
DEVENISH. Your daughter! I say, how ripping!
(BELINDA gives him an understanding look.)
BAXTER. Your daughter!
BELINDA. Yes.
BAXTER. But—but you aren't old enough to have a daughter of that age.
BELINDA (apologetically). Well, there she is.
BAXTER. But—but she's grown up.
BELINDA. Quite.
BAXTER. Then in that case you must be—(He hesitates, evidently working it out.)