DEVENISH. Are you serious?

BELINDA. Not as a rule.

DEVENISH. You're not going to marry again?

BELINDA. Well, who could I marry?

DEVENISH and BAXTER (together). Me!

BELINDA (dropping her eyes modestly). But this is England.

BAXTER. Mrs. Tremayne, I claim the right of age--of my greater
years--to speak first.

DEVENISH. Mrs. Tremayne, I--

BELINDA (kindly to DEVENISH). You can speak afterwards, Mr.
Devenish. It's so awkward when you both speak together.

BAXTER. Mrs. Tremayne, I am a man of substantial position, and
perhaps I may say of some repute in serious circles. All that I
have, whether of material or mental endowment, I lay at your feet,
together with an admiration which I cannot readily put into words.
As my wife I think you would be happy, and I feel that with you by
my side I could achieve even greater things.

BELINDA. How sweet of you! But I ought to tell you that I'm no good
at figures.