ha! ha!

DEVENISH (_hastily smoothing it down_). Really, Baxter, you're
vulgar. (_He turns away and resumes his promenading, going down R. and
then round deck-chair to front of hammock. Suddenly he sees his book on
the grass beneath the hammock and makes a dash for it_.) Ha, my book!
(_Gloating over it_.) Baxter, she reads my book.

BAXTER. I suppose you gave her a copy.

DEVENISH (exultingly). Yes, I gave her a copy. My next book will be hers
and hers alone.

BAXTER. Then let me say that, in my opinion, you took a very great
liberty.

DEVENISH. Liberty! And this from a man who is continually forcing his
unwelcome statistics upon her.

BAXTER. At any rate, I flatter myself that there is no suggestion of
impropriety in anything that _I_ write.

DEVENISH. I'm not so sure about that, Baxter.

BAXTER. What do you mean, sir?

DEVENISH. Did you read The Times this month on the new reviews!

BAXTER. Well!