DEVENISH. Yes, Mrs. Tremayne?

BELINDA (_secretly_). Not a word to her about Mr. Robinson. It must
be a surprise for her.

DEVENISH. Of course! I shouldn't dream----(_Indignantly_.)
Robinson! What an unsuitable name!

(BAXTER _and_ DELIA _are just going into the house_.)

BELINDA (_dismissing_ DEVENISH). All right, I'll catch you up.
(DEVENISH _goes after the other two_.)

(_Left alone_, BELINDA _laughs happily to herself, and then
begins to look rather aimlessly about her. She picks up her sunshade
and opens it. She comes to the hammock, picks out her handkerchief,
says, "Ah, there you are!" and puts it away. She goes slowly towards
the house_. TREMAYNE _enters from_ L. _and with his back to
the audience tries latch of imaginary gate below scenic painted
gateway_ L. BELINDA _turns her head, hearing imaginary click of the
garden gate_ L. _She comes slowly back_ R.C.)

BELINDA (_seeing_ TREMAYNE). Have you lost yourself, or something?
No; the latch is this side. ... Yes, that's right.

(TREMAYNE _comes in. He has been knocking about the world for
eighteen years, and is very much a man, though he has kept his manners.
His hair is greying a little at the sides, and he looks the forty-odd
that he is. Without his moustache and beard he is very different from
the boy_ BELINDA _married_.)