ng.) At least, you mean
my aunt?

DEVENISH (smiling at her). No, I mean your mother. To think that I once
had the cheek to propose to her.

DELIA. Oh! Is it cheek to propose to people!

DEVENISH. To _her_.

DELIA. But not to me?

DEVENISH. Oh I say, Delia!

DELIA (with great dignity). Thank you, my name is Miss Robinson--I mean,
Tremayne.

DEVENISH. Well, if you're not quite sure which it is, it's much safer to
call you Delia.

DELIA (smiling). Well, perhaps it is.

DEVENISH. And if I did propose to you, you haven't answered

DELIA. If you want an answer now, it's no; but if you like to wait till
next April--

DEVENISH (reproachfully). Oh, I say, and I cut my hair for you the same
afternoon. You haven't really told me how you like it yet.

DELIA. Oh, how bad of me! You look lovely.

DEVENISH. And I promised to give up poetry for your sake.

DELIA. Perhaps I oughtn't to have asked you that.

DEVENISH. As far as I'm concerned, Delia, I'll do it gladly, but, of
course, one has to think about posterity.

DELIA. But you needn't be a poet. You could give posterity plenty to
think about if you were a statesman.

DEVENISH. I don't quite see your objection to poetry.

DELIA. You would be about the house so much. I want you to go away every
day and do great things, and then come home in the evening and tell me
all about it.

DEVENISH. Then you _are_ thinking of marrying me!

DELIA. Well, I was just thinking in case I had to.

DEVENISH. It would be rather fun if you did. And look here--I _will_
be a statesman, if you like, and go up to Downing Street every day, and
come back in the evening and tell you all about it.

DELIA. How nice of you!

DEVENISH (magnificently, holding up his hand to Heaven). Farewell,
Parnassus!

DELIA. What does that mean?

DEVENISH. Well, it means that I've chucked poetry. A statesman's life is
the life for me; behold Mr. Devenish, the new M.P.--no, look here, that
was quite accidental.

DELIA (smiling at him). I believe I shall really like you when I get to
know you.

DEVENISH. I don't know if it's you, or Devonshire, or the fact that
I've had my hair cut, but I feel quite a different being from what I was
three days ago.

DELIA. You _are_ different. Perhaps it's your sense of humour coming
back.

DEVENISH. Perhaps that's it. It's a curious feeling.

DELIA (holding out her hand). Let's go outside; there's a heavenly moon.

DEVENISH (taking her hand). Moon? Moon?