?

(Looking the picture of despair, DEVENISH droops his head, raises his
arms and lets them fall hopelessly to his sides.)

BELINDA. Mr. Devenish, I have never admired you so much as I do at this
moment.

BAXTER (indignantly to DEVENISH). I say, you know, that's not fair. It's
all very well to take your defeat like a man, but you mustn't overdo it.
Mrs. Tremayne, I claim the reward which I have earned.

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.)

BELINDA (hastily). I'm afraid so, Mr. Baxter.

BAXTER. But this makes a great difference. I had no idea. Why, when I'm
fifty you would be--

BELINDA (sighing). Yes, I suppose I should.

BAXTER. And when I'm sixty--

BELINDA (pleadingly to DEVENISH). Can't you stop him?

DEVENISH. Look here, Baxter, another word from you and you'll never
_get_ to sixty.

BAXTER. And then there's Miss--er--Delia. In the event of our marrying,
Mrs. Tremayne, she, I take it, would be my step-daughter.

BELINDA. I don't think she would trouble us much, Mr. Baxter. I have
an idea that she will be getting married before long. (She glances at
DEVENISH, who returns her look gratefully.)

BAXTER. None the less, the fact would be disturbing. I have never yet
considered myself seriously as a step-father. I don't think I am going
too far if I say that to some extent I have been deceived in this
matter.

BELINDA (reproachfully). And so have I. I thought you loved me.

DEVENISH (sympathetically). Yes, yes.

BELINDA (turning to him suddenly). _And_ Mr. Devenish too.

BAXTER. Er--

DEVENISH. Er--

(They stand before her guiltily and have nothing to say.)

BELINDA (with a shrug). Well, I shall have to marry somebody else,
that's all.

BAXTER. Who?

BELINDA. I suppose Mr. Robinson. After all, if I am Delia's mother,
and Mr. Baxter says that Mr. Robinson's her father, it's about time we
_were_ married.

DEVE