language. You won't mind very much, will you, Mr. Devenish?

DEVENISH. It is the spirit of this which matters, not the language
which clothes it.

BELINDA. Oh, I'm so glad you think so. Well, now about Miss Robinson.
She's my niece and she's just come to stay with me, and--poor girl--
she's lost her father. Absolutely lost him. He disappeared ever such a
long time ago, and poor Miss Robinson--Delia--naturally wants to find
him. Poor girl! she _can't_ think where he is.

DEVENISH (_nobly_). I will find him.

BELINDA. Oh, thank you, Mr. Devenish; Miss Robinson would be so much
obliged.

BAXTER. Yes--er--but what have we to go upon? Beyond the fact that his
name is Robinson--

BELINDA. I shouldn't go on _that_ too much. You see, he may easily
have changed it by now. He was never very much of a Robinson. Nothing to
do with Peter or any of those.

DEVENISH. I will find him.

BAXTER (_with a look of annoyance at_ DEVENISH). Well, can you tell
us what he's like?

BELINDA. Well, it's such a long time since I saw him. (_Looking down
modestly_.) Of course, I was quite a girl then. The only thing I know