[BETTY comes from the other side of the house into the garden,
followed by MR. BAXTER and MR. DEVENISH. MR. BAXTER is forty-five,
prim and erect, with close-trimmed moustache and side-whiskers. His
clothes are dark and he wears a bowler-hat. MR. DEVENISH is a
long-haired, good-looking boy in a neglige costume; perhaps
twenty-two years old, and very scornful of the world.]

BETTY (looking about her surprised). The mistress was here a
moment ago. I expect she'll be back directly, if you'll just wait.
[She goes back into the house.]

(MR. BAXTER puts his bowler-hat firmly on his head and sits down
very stiffly and upright in a chair on the left-hand side of the
table. DEVENISH throws his felt hat on to the table and walks about
inquisitively. He sees the review in the hammock and picks it up.)

DEVENISH. Good heavens, Baxter, she's been reading your article!

BAXTER. I dare say she's not the only one.

DEVENISH. That's only guesswork (going to back of table); you
don't know of anyone else.

BAXTER. How many people, may I ask, have bought your poems?

DEVENISH (loftily). I don't write for the mob.

BAXTER. I think I may say that of my own work.