BELINDA. Just say it--to see if you've got it right.

TREMAYNE. Mariton.

BELINDA (shaking her head). Oh no, that's quite wrong. Try it
again (With a rustic accent.) Mariton.

TREMAYNE. Mariton.

BELINDA. Yes, that's much better. ... (As if it were he who had
interrupted.) Well, do go on.

TREMAYNE. I'm afraid it isn't much of an apology really. I saw what
looked like a private road, but what I rather hoped wasn't, and--
well, I thought I'd risk it. I do hope you'll forgive me.

BELINDA. Oh, but I love people seeing my garden. Are you staying in
Mariton?

TREMAYNE. I think so. Oh yes, decidedly.

BELINDA. Well, perhaps the next time the road won't feel so
private.

TREMAYNE. How charming of you! (He feels he must know.) Are you
Mrs. Tremayne by any chance?

BELINDA. Yes.

TREMAYNE (nodding to himself). Yes.