Chapter 3

SCENE.--_The same and furniture exactly as in_ ACT II.

(MR. PIM _is below settee_ L. _standing in same position as at the end of_ ACT II. GEORGE MARDEN _is in centre of stage and_ LADY MARDEN _is at foot of staircase. Their altitude is the same as at the end of_ ACT II, _and all are concerned about_ OLIVIA'S _hysteria_.)

GEORGE. Dead! Dead!

PIM. Oh dear! Oh dear! I'm afraid I broke the news rather hastily. The double shock of losing one husband and being restored to another--

LADY MARDEN (_coming to_ GEORGE). A dispensation of Providence, George. One can regard it in no other light. (_Moves to_ R. _of writing-table_.)

GEORGE (_coming to_ PIM). Yes! Yes! Well, I'm much obliged to you, Mr. Pim, for having come down to us this afternoon, and you understand that your news, though tardy, has been very welcome. _De Mortuis_, and so forth.

(LADY MARDEN _crosses at back of writing-table to_ L.)

PIM (_sadly repeating_). _De Mortuis--_

GEORGE (_shaking hands--anxious to get rid of him_). Well, good-bye, and again our thanks.

(_Crosses below and to_ L. _of_ PIM _and rings bell below fireplace_.)

PIM (_crossing to centre_). Not at all. I shouldn't have broken the news so hastily. (_Catches sight of_ LADY MARDEN _up_ L., _and with a profound bow_.) Good-bye, Lady Marden.

LADY MARDEN (_equally profound_). Good-bye, Mr. Pim.

PIM. I'm afraid I broke the news too hastily. (_Goes to table_ B.C. _and takes up_ GEORGE'S _cap in mistake for his hat and is moving towards double-doors when_ GEORGE, _noting this, picks up_ PIM'S _hat from_ L. _of stage where it has been left from previous_ ACT, _and crosses with it to_ PIM.)

GEORGE. Mr. Pim, excuse me, but I think this is yours.

PIM (_he takes it and looks at it closely, comparing it with the cap_). This isn't my hat at all. (_Puts_ GEORGE'S _cap down on table again_.)

No, that isn't my hat. (_Takes his own hat from_ GEORGE.) This is my hat. Good-bye! (_Shakes hands_.) Thank you so much. (_Looking at cap on table_.) Oh, no! Oh, no! (_Moves nearer to door_ R.) Telworthy... I _think_ that was the name.

(_Exit doors_ R.)

(LADY MARDEN, _annoyed at_ PIM'S _stupidity, comes down to_ L. _of_ GEORGE.)

GEORGE (_turning to_ LADY MARDEN _and with a sigh of thankfulness_). Well, this is wonderful news, Aunt Julia.

LADY MARDEN. Most providential. Well, I must be getting along now, George. Say good-bye to Olivia for me.

GEORGE (_crossing towards double-doors as if to open them_). Good-bye, Aunt Julia.

LADY MARDEN. No! No! I'll go this way--(_going up to_ L. _of writing-table_)--and get Olivia out more, George. I don't like these hysterics. (_Banging writing-table_.) You want to be firmer with her.

GEORGE. Yes! Yes! Good-bye.

LADY MARDEN (_going off up_ L.). Good-bye.

GEORGE (_back again down centre and with great thankfulness_). Dead! Dead! (_Moves down to below settee_ L.)

(OLIVIA _enters from staircase, watching him and coming quietly to_ C.)

GEORGE (_approaching her enthusiastically_). Olivia! Olivia! (_Is about to embrace her, but she restrains him_.)

OLIVIA (_drawing herself up_). Mrs. Telworthy!

GEORGE (_taken aback_). What? Olivia! I--I don't understand.

OLIVIA. Well, darling, if my husband only died at Marseilles a few days ago----

GEORGE (_scratching his head_). Yes, I see--I see. Well, we can soon put that right. (_Moving to_ L.) A registry office in London. Better go up this afternoon. We can't do these things too quickly--we can stay at an hotel.

OLIVIA (_pointedly_). You and Mrs. Telworthy! (_Moves slowly round back of settee_ L.)

(GEORGE _moves to centre_.)

GEORGE (_nonplussed_). Oh--er--yes--yes--perhaps I'd better stay at my Club--yes! It will be a bit awkward at first. (_With a sigh of relief_.) However, nobody need know, and how much better than what we feared!

(OLIVIA _comes down to below settee_ L.)

GEORGE (_advancing to embrace her_). Olivia! Olivia!

(_She repulses him and he crosses to her_ L.)

OLIVIA. Mrs. Telworthy!

GEORGE. Yes--yes, I know, but why do you keep on saying it? What's the matter with you? You're so strange to-day. You're not like the Olivia I know.

OLIVIA (_sits on settee to_ R.). Perhaps you don't know me so very well, after all.

GEORGE (_sitting--affectionately to her_ L.). Oh, that's nonsense--old girl. You're just my Olivia. Now we can get married again quietly and nobody will be any the worse.

OLIVIA. Married again! Oh, I see, you want me to marry you at a registry office to-morrow?

GEORGE. If we can arrange it by then. (_Rising and crossing below_ OLIVIA _to centre_.) I don't know how long these things take, but I should imagine there would be no difficulty.

OLIVIA. Oh, no, I think that part of it ought to be quite _easy_. But-- (_She hesitates_.)

GEORGE. But what?

OLIVIA. Well, if you want to marry me to-morrow, George, oughtn't you to propose to me first?

GEORGE (_amazed_). Propose?

OLIVIA. Yes. It is usual, isn't it, to propose to a person before you marry her? And--and we want to do the usual thing, don't we?

GEORGE (_upset_). But you--I mean we--

OLIVIA. You are George Marden, I am Olivia Telworthy, you are attracted by me and think I would make you a good wife, and you want to marry me-- very well, then, naturally you propose to me first.

GEORGE (_falling into the humour of it, as he thinks, and with a hearty laugh moves to below stool_ L.C.). The baby! Did she want to be proposed to all over again?

OLIVIA (_coyly_). Well, she did rather.

GEORGE (_rather fancying himself as an actor, he adopts what he considers to be an appropriate attitude_). She shall then. Er--ah, Mrs. Telworthy, I have long admired you in silence, and the time has now come to put my admiration into words (_but apparently he finds a difficulty_)--er--er--

OLIVIA (_looking up at him quizzically and prompting him into words; repeating_). I--I--(_Looking down coyly_.) Oh, Mr. Marden!

(GEORGE _roars with laughter and crosses to centre_.)

GEORGE (_returning to her_). Olivia--er--may I call you Olivia?

OLIVIA. Yes, George.

(OLIVIA _puts out her hand and_ GEORGE _notices it_.)

GEORGE. I beg your pardon! Oh, I see. (_Taking her hand in his he gives it a good slap and she winces_.) Olivia, I--(_Hesitates_.)

OLIVIA. I don't want to interrupt, but oughtn't you to be on your knees? It is--usual, I believe. GEORGE. Really, Olivia, you must allow me to manage my own proposal in my own way.

OLIVIA (_meekly--and resuming her coyness_). I'm sorry. Do go on.

GEORGE. Well--er--confound it, Olivia, I love you. Will you marry me?

OLIVIA. Thank you, George, I will think it over.

GEORGE (_laughing_). Silly girl. (_Pats her on the shoulder and crosses to_ R.) Well, then, to-morrow morning. No wedding cake, I'm afraid, Olivia. (_He laughs again and moves up centre_.) But we'll go and have a good lunch somewhere.

OLIVIA. I will think it over, George.

GEORGE (_good-humouredly and coming down to back of settee to her_ R.). Well, give me a kiss while you're thinking.

OLIVIA. I'm afraid you mustn't kiss me until we are actually engaged.

GEORGE (_laughing uneasily, and sitting and leaning over on table_ L.C. _towards_ OLIVIA). Oh, we needn't take it as seriously as all that.

OLIVIA. But a woman must take a proposal seriously.

GEORGE (_a little alarmed at last_). What do you mean?

OLIVIA. Well, what I mean is that the whole question--(_with a sly look at_ GEORGE)--as I heard somebody say once, demands much more anxious thought than either of us has given it. These hasty marriages----

GEORGE (_rising and crossing at back of_ OLIVIA _round settee and to_ L. _of_ OLIVIA). Hasty!

OLIVIA. Well, you've only just proposed to me, and you want me to marry you to-morrow.

GEORGE. Now you're talking perfect nonsense, Olivia. You know quite well that our case is utterly different from--well--from any other.

OLIVIA. All the same, one must ask oneself questions. With a young girl like--well, with a young girl--love may well seem to be all that matters. But with a woman of my age it is different. I have to ask myself whether you can afford to support a wife.

GEORGE. You know perfectly well that I can afford to support a wife as my wife should be supported.

OLIVIA. Oh, I am glad. Then your income--you are not really worried about that at all?

GEORGE (_stiffly_). You know perfectly well what my income is. I see no reason for anxiety, in the future.

OLIVIA. Ah, very well, then we needn't think about it any more.

GEORGE. You know I can't make out what you're up to. (_Sits to her_ L. _on settee_.) Don't you want to get married--to--er--legalize this extraordinary situation in which we are placed?

OLIVIA. I must consider the whole question very carefully. I can't just jump at the very first offer I have had since my husband died. (_Rising and crossing to centre_.)

GEORGE. Oh, so I'm under consideration, eh?

OLIVIA (_moving up_ R.C.). Every suitor is.

GEORGE. Oh, very well, go on! Go on!

OLIVIA. Well then, there's your niece. You have a niece living with you. Of course Dinah is a delightful girl, but one doesn't like marrying into a household where there's another grown-up woman. But perhaps she will be getting married herself soon.

GEORGE. I see no prospect of it.

OLIVIA. It would make it so much easier, George, if she did.

GEORGE (_rising_). Is this a threat, Olivia? (_Crossing up to_ OLIVIA.) Are you telling me that if I do not allow young Strange to marry Dinah, you will not marry me?

OLIVIA. A threat? Oh, no, George. But I was just wondering if you love me as much as Brian loves Dinah. You do love me?

GEORGE (_from his heart_). Of course I do, old girl.

OLIVIA. You're sure it's not just my pretty face that attracts you. Love which is based upon mere outward appearances cannot result in lasting happiness--as one of our thinkers has observed. (_Moving down to settee_ R.)

GEORGE. Why should you doubt my love? You can't pretend that we haven't been happy together. (OLIVIA _sits on settee_ R.) I've--(_taking a chair from_ L. _of table_ R.C. _brings it down to_ L. _of_ OLIVIA) I've been a good pal to you, eh? We--we suit each other, old girl.

OLIVIA. Do we?

GEORGE (_sitting_). Well, of course we do.

OLIVIA. I wonder. When two people of our age think of getting married, one wants to be quite sure that there is real community of ideas between them. Supposing that after we have been married some years we found ourselves getting estranged from each other upon such questions as Dinah's future, or the comparatively trivial matter like the right colour for a curtain, or the advice to be given to a friend who had innocently contracted a bigamous marriage. Think how bitterly we should regret our hasty plunge into a matrimony which was no true partnership, whether of tastes or ideas or even of consciences. (_With a sigh_.) Ah me!

GEORGE (_turning to her quickly_). Unfortunately for your argument, Olivia, I can answer you out of your own mouth. You seem to have-- (_laughing_)--forgotten what you said this morning in the case of--er-- young Strange.

OLIVIA (_with exaggerated reproach_). Oh, but is it quite fair, George, to drag up _what was said this morning_?

GEORGE (_enjoying his apparent success_). Ha ha! You've brought it on yourself.

OLIVIA. I?... Well, and what did I say this morning?

GEORGE. You said that it was quite enough that Strange was a gentleman and in love with Dinah for me to let them marry each other.

OLIVIA. Oh! But is that enough, George?

GEORGE (_triumphantly_). Well, you said so.

OLIVIA (_meekly_). Well, George, if you think so too, I'm quite willing to risk it.

GEORGE (_kindly, rising and putting back chair up_ R.C.). Ha ha, my dear! You see!

OLIVIA. Then you _do_ think it's enough?

GEORGE. I--er--yes, yes, I--I think so.

OLIVIA (_rising and going to him and putting her hands on his shoulders_). My darling one! How jolly! Then we can have a double wedding.

GEORGE (_astonished_). A double one!

OLIVIA. Yes, you and me, Brian and Dinah.

GEORGE (_firmly, and taking her hands from his shoulders_). Now look here, Olivia, understand once and for all, I am not to be blackmailed into giving my consent to Dinah's engagement. Neither blackmailed nor tricked. (_Crossing to_ L. _below settee_.) Our marriage has nothing whatever to do with Dinah's.

OLIVIA. No, dear, I quite understand. They may take place about the same time, but they have nothing whatever to do with each other.

GEORGE (_sits on foot of table_ L.C.). I see no prospect of Dinah's marriage taking place for many years.

OLIVIA. No, dear, that was what I said.

GEORGE (_not understanding for the moment_). You said----? I see. (_Turning and facing her_.) Now look here, Olivia, let us have this perfectly clear. You apparently insist on treating my--er--proposal as serious.

OLIVIA (_mock surprise_). But isn't it? Have you been trifling with me?

GEORGE. You know perfectly well what I mean. You treat it as an ordinary proposal for a man to a woman who have never been anything to each other before. Very well then, will you kindly tell me what you propose to do if you decide to--ah--accept me? You do not suggest that we should go on living together--unmarried?

OLIVIA (_shocked_). Of course not, George!! What would--(_pausing for additional explanation_)--the County--I mean Heaven--I mean the Law--I mean--of course not. Besides, it's so unnecessary. If I decide to accept you, of _course_ I shall marry you.

GEORGE. Quite so. And if you--ah--decide to refuse me, what will you do?

OLIVIA. Nothing.

GEORGE. Meaning by that?

OLIVIA. Just that, George. I shall stay here--just as before.

(GEORGE _rises and approaches her, about to expostulate_.)

I like this house. (_Crossing below_ GEORGE, _looking about the room to below settee_ L.) It wants a little redecorating, but I do like it, George... Yes, I shall be perfectly happy here! (_Sits on settee_.)

GEORGE. I see. You will continue to live down here--in spite of what you said just now about the--the immorality of it.

OLIVIA (_surprised_). But what is there immoral in a widow living alone in a big country house--with perhaps the niece of a dear friend of hers-- staying with her to keep her company.

GEORGE (_sarcastic_). Oh, and pray what shall I be doing when you've so very kindly taken possession of my house for me?

OLIVIA. You! Oh, I can't _think_! Travelling, I expect.

GEORGE (_indignant and advancing to her_). Thank you! And suppose I refuse to be turned out of my own house?

OLIVIA. Then, seeing that we can't both be in it, it looks as though you'd have to turn me out. (_To herself_.) There must be legal ways of doing these things. You'd have to consult your solicitor again.

GEORGE. Legal ways?

OLIVIA. Well, you couldn't just throw me out, could you? You'd have to get an injunction against me--

(GEORGE, _very annoyed, turns away_.)

--or prosecute me for trespass--or something. Of course I shouldn't go if I could help it, I like the house so much.... It would make an awfully unusual case, wouldn't it? The papers would be full of it.

GEORGE. The papers!

OLIVIA (_calling as paper boy_). Extra special! Widow of well-known ex-convict takes possession of J.P.'s house! Special! Special!

GEORGE (_angrily_). I've had enough of this. (_Coming to table_ L.C. _and speaking across_.) Do you mean all this nonsense?

OLIVIA. Well, what I _do_ mean _is_, that I am in no hurry to go up to London and get married. I love the country just now, and--(_with a sigh_)--after this morning, I'm--rather tired of husbands.

GEORGE (_in a rage_). I've never heard so much--damned (_bangs table_) ... nonsense in my life. _I will leave you to come back to your senses._

(_He goes out, up staircase up_ R.)

(OLIVIA _rises and crosses to centre, watching_ GEORGE _off. She kisses her hands to him, then turning to_ L. _sees curtains and work-box and extending her arms in ecstasy goes to cabinet, takes them up and comes down_ L. OLIVIA _sits on settee with curtains in her lap and places the work-box to her_ L. _on settee, and as she does so_ MR. PIM _enters from up_ R. _through windows and coming to_ R. _of writing-table taps it with his umbrella to attract_ OLIVIA'S _attention. She turns and sees him. He looks nervously round at staircase_ R. _fearing the return of_ GEORGE.)

PIM (_in a whisper_). Er--may I come in, Mrs. Marden?

OLIVIA (_in surprise_). Mr. Pim!

PIM (_anxiously and again looking round at staircase_). Mr. Marden is-- er--not here?

OLIVIA (_getting up_). No! Do you want to see him? I will----

PIM (_another look round at staircase and moving down centre_). No, no, no! Not for the world. There is no immediate danger of his returning, Mrs. Marden?

OLIVIA (_surprised_). No, I don't think so, Mr. Pim. (_Puts down curtains_). But... what is it? You----

PIM. I took the liberty of returning by the window in the hope of finding you alone.

OLIVIA (_sitting again_). Yes?

PIM (_still rather nervous and throwing up his arms in distress_). Mr. Marden will be so angry with me, and very rightly. Oh, I blame myself. I blame myself entirely. I don't know how I can have been so stupid. (_Sits on stool_ L.C. _very concerned_).

OLIVIA. What is it, Mr. Pim? My first husband hasn't come to life again, has he?

PIM. No! No! No! (_Looking round to_ R. _and speaking very mysteriously across table_ L.C.) The fact is--his name was Pelwittle.

OLIVIA (_at a loss_). Whose? My husband's?

PIM. Yes, yes. Henry Pelwittle, poor fellow.

OLIVIA. But _my_ husband's name was Telworthy.

PIM. No! Oh dear, no! Pelwittle. (_Firmly_.) It came back to me suddenly just as I reached the gate--Henry Pelwittle, poor fellow.

OLIVIA. But really, Mr. Pim, I ought to know.

PIM. No! No! Pelwittle.

OLIVIA. But who is Pelwittle?

PIM (_in surprise at her stupidity_). The man I told you about, who met with the sad fatality at Marseilles. Henry Pelwittle.... (_With hand on chin, thinking deeply_.) Or was it _Ernest_? No! _Henry_ Pelwittle, poor fellow.

OLIVIA (_indignantly_). But, Mr. Pim, you said his name was Telworthy. How could you?

PIM. Oh, I blame myself, I blame myself entirely.

OLIVIA. But how could you _think_ of a name like Telworthy if it wasn't Telworthy?

PIM (_eagerly_). Ah, ah, that is the really interesting thing about the whole matter.

OLIVIA (_reproachfully_). Yes, Mr. Pim, all your visits here to-day have been very interesting.

PIM. Oh, very interesting, very interesting, You see, Mrs. Marden, when I made my first appearance here this morning I was received by--Miss Diana, who----

OLIVIA. Dinah!

PIM. I beg your pardon?

OLIVIA. Dinah. Her name is Dinah!

PIM (_pauses_). You're quite right. Dinah--oh yes. Miss Dinah, yes. She was in--er--rather a communicative mood, and I suppose by way of passing the time she mentioned that before your marriage--to Mr. Marden you had been a Mrs.--er----

OLIVIA. Telworthy.

PIM. Telworthy, yes, of course. She also mentioned Australia. Now by some curious process of the brain--which strikes me as decidedly curious--when I was trying to recollect--the name of the poor fellow on the boat, whom you will remember I had also met in Australia, the fact that this other name was also stored in my memory, a name equally peculiar--this fact I say----

OLIVIA (_seeing that the sentence is rapidly going to pieces_). Yes, I quite understand.

PIM. I blame myself, I blame myself entirely.

OLIVIA. Oh, you mustn't do that, Mr. Pim.

PIM. Oh, but, Mrs. Marden, can you forgive me for the needless distress I have caused you to-day?

OLIVIA. Oh, you mustn't worry about that, please.

PIM. And you will tell your husband--you'll break the news to him?

OLIVIA (_amazed_). Oh, yes! I'll break the _news_ to him.

PIM (_rising and holding out his hand_). Well then, I think before he comes back I will say good-bye and--er----

OLIVIA (_rising_). Just a moment, Mr. Pim. Let us have it quite clear this time. You never knew my husband Jacob Telworthy?

PIM. No!

OLIVIA. You never met him in Australia?

PIM. No!

OLIVIA. You never saw him on the boat?

PIM. No!

OLIVIA. And nothing _whatever happened to him at Marseilles?_

PIM. No!

OLIVIA. Is that right?

PIM (_hesitating and thinking it out very deeply_). I think so.

OLIVIA. Very well, then, since his death was announced in Australia six years ago, he is presumably still dead?

PIM. Undoubtedly.

OLIVIA (_holding out her hand with a charming smile_). Then good-bye, Mr. Pim, and thank you so much for--for all your trouble.

PIM. Not at all, Mrs. Marden. I blame myself, I blame myself entirely.

OLIVIA. Oh! You mustn't do that.

(_Going up centre_ PIM _meets_ DINAH, _who enters from the window up L., crosses at back of writing-table and comes down R. of him_).

(DINAH is followed by BRIAN, who is on her R.).

DINAH. Hullo, there's Mr. Pim. (_To_ BRIAN.)

PIM (_nervously looking at the door in case_ MR. MARDEN _should come in_). Yes, yes I--er--

DINAH. Oh, Mr. Pim, you mustn't run away without even saying how-do-you-do! Are you staying to tea?

PIM (_looking off at staircase nervously_). I'm afraid I--

OLIVIA. Mr. Pim has to hurry away, Dinah. You mustn't keep him.

DINAH. Well, but you'll come back again?

PIM. I fear that I am only a passer-by, Miss--er--Dinah.

OLIVIA. You can take Mr. Pim as far as the gate.

PIM (_gratefully to_ OLIVIA). Thank you. (_With nervous look at staircase R., he edges towards the windows._) If you would be so kind, Miss Dinah--.

DINAH (_taking his arm_). Come along then, Mr. Pim.

BRIAN. I'll catch you up.

DINAH (_taking him up L._). I want to hear all about your first wife.

PIM. Oh, but I haven't got a first wife.

DINAH. You haven't really told me anything yet.

(_They go off up L._)

BRIAN. I'll catch you up.

(OLIVIA _resumes her work, and_ BRIAN _crosses down to foot of table L.C., and sits on it._)

BRIAN (_awkwardly_). I just wanted to say, if you don't think it cheek, that I'm--I'm on your side, if I may be and if I can help you at all, I shall be very proud of being allowed to.

OLIVIA (_looking up at him and taking his hand_). Brian, you dear, that's sweet of you. But it's quite all right now, you know.

BRIAN. What?

OLIVIA. Yes, that's what Mr. Pim came back to say. He'd made a mistake about the name--

BRIAN (_rising_). Good Lord!

OLIVIA (_smiling_). George is the only husband I have.

BRIAN (_surprised_). What? You mean that the whole thing that Pim--

OLIVIA (_repeating_). The whole thing.

BRIAN (_crossing up to window R. and shouting off to L. and with conviction_). Silly ass!

OLIVIA (_kindly_). Oh, no, no, I'm sure he didn't mean to be. (_After a pause_.) Brian, do you know anything about the law?

BRIAN (_coming down_ C.). The law? I'm afraid not. I hate the law. Why? (_Sits at foot of table_ L.C.)

OLIVIA. Well, I was just wondering. Suppose that George and I had accidentally married each other a second time thinking that the first marriage wasn't quite right, and then we found the first marriage was all right--well----

BRIAN. What on earth do you mean?

OLIVIA. Well, what I mean is that there's nothing wrong in marrying the same person twice?

BRIAN (_rising and moving to centre, thinking it out_). Oh, no. A hundred times if you like, I should think.

OLIVIA. Oh!

BRIAN. After all, in France they always go through it twice, don't they? Once before the Mayor or somebody, and once in church.

OLIVIA. Of course they do! How silly of me. You know, that's a very good idea. They ought to do that more in England.

BRIAN. Well, once will be enough for Dinah and me, if you can work it. (_Anxiously_.) D'you think there's any chance, Olivia?

OLIVIA (_smiling_). Every chance, dear.

BRIAN (_coming to above table_ L.C.). I say, do you really? Have you squared him? I mean has he----

(GEORGE _is heard humming the tune of "Pop goes the weasel" off_ R.)

OLIVIA. You go and catch them up now. We'll talk about it later on.

BRIAN. Bless you. Right-o!

(_Going up_ L. _and off up_ L.)

(_As he goes out by the windows,_ GEORGE _comes in at the doors_ R. GEORGE _stands_ R.C., _and then turns to_ OLIVIA, _who is absorbed in her curtain. He walks up and down the room, fidgeting with things, waiting for her to speak. As she says nothing, he begins to talk himself, but in an obviously unconcerned way. There is a pause after each answer of hers, before he gets out his next remark_.)

GEORGE (_casually_). Good-looking fellow, Strange. What?

OLIVIA (_equally casually_). Brian, yes, isn't he? And such a nice boy.

GEORGE. Yes, yes! (_Catching sight of curtain she is sewing. Hums the tune of "Pop goes the weasel"--crossing down_ R. _to piano, plays a few notes of "Pop goes the weasel" with one finger_.) Got fifty pounds for a picture the other day, didn't he? (_Moving up stage a little_.)

OLIVIA. Ah, yes! Of course he has only just begun----

GEORGE. The critics think well of him, (_Slight pause_.) What?

(_Up C. by chair front of writing-table_.)

OLIVIA. They all say he has genius. Oh, I don't think there's any doubt about it. (_Pause_.)

(GEORGE _left of writing-table_.)

GEORGE. No, no! (_Slight pause, and he sings again_.) Of course I don't profess to know anything about painting, myself.

OLIVIA. You've never had time to take it up, dear.

GEORGE (_coming down_ L. _a little_.) No! No! Of course I know what I like. Can't say I see much in this new-fangled stuff. If a man can paint, why can't he paint like--like Rubens, or--or Reynolds, or----

OLIVIA. I suppose we all have our own styles. Brian will be finding his, directly. Of course, he's only just beginning. (_Pause_.)

GEORGE (_crossing up centre_). Yes, yes. But the critics think a lot of him, what?

OLIVIA. Oh, yes.

GEORGE. Yes! H'm! (_Pause_.) Good-looking fellow.

(_There is rather a longer silence this time._ GEORGE _coming round back of settee L. continues to hope that he is appearing casual and unconcerned--he stands looking at_ OLIVIA'S _work for a moment_.)

GEORGE (_down_ L.). Nearly finished 'em?

OLIVIA. Very nearly. (_Smiling to herself, turns away to R., pretending to look for scissors_.) Have you seen my scissors anywhere?

GEORGE (_looking round_). Scissors?

OLIVIA (_turns to_ L. _and finds them in her work-box_). It's all right, here they are----

GEORGE (_down_ L. _below chair facing_ OLIVIA). Where are you thinking of hanging 'em?

OLIVIA (_as if really wondering_). I don't quite know.... I _had_ thought of this room, but--I'm not quite sure.

GEORGE (_crossing below_ OLIVIA _to centre_). Ah! Yes! Brighten the room up a bit.

OLIVIA. Yes.

GEORGE (_walking up centre a little towards windows_). H'm, yes----They are a bit faded.

OLIVIA (_shaking out hers, and looking at them critically_). You know, sometimes I think I love them, and sometimes I'm not quite sure.

GEORGE. Best way is to hang 'em up and see how you like 'em. Always take 'em down again.

OLIVIA. Oh, that's a good idea, George.

GEORGE. Best way.

OLIVIA. Yes.... I think we might try that--(_looking round at settee and carpets, etc_.)--the only thing is--(_She hesitates_.)

GEORGE. What?

OLIVIA. Well, the carpets and the chair-covers and the cushions and things--

GEORGE. Well, what about 'em?

OLIVIA. Well, if we had new curtains--

GEORGE. You'd want a new carpet, eh?

OLIVIA (_doubtfully_). Well, _new chair-covers, anyhow._

GEORGE. H'm!... Well, why not?

OLIVIA. Oh, but--

GEORGE (_with an awkward laugh_). We're not so hard up as all that, you know.

OLIVIA (_quickly_). No, I don't suppose we are really--

GEORGE. No, no, no, yes--I mean no.

OLIVIA (_thoughtfully_). I suppose it would mean that I should have to go up to London to choose them. You know, that's rather a nuisance.

GEORGE (_extremely casual and moving towards_ OLIVIA). Oh, I don't know. We might go up together one day.

OLIVIA. Well, of course if we _were_ up--for anything else--

GEORGE (_moving away dubiously_). Yes, yes! That's what I meant.

(_There is another silence_. GEORGE _is wondering whether to come to closer quarters with the great question_.)

OLIVIA. Oh, by the way, George--

GEORGE. Yes?

OLIVIA (_innocently_). I told Brian, and of course he'll tell Dinah, that Mr. Pim had made a mistake about the name.

GEORGE (_astonished, moving towards_ OLIVIA). Mistake about the name?

OLIVIA. Yes--I told Brian that the whole thing was a mistake, I thought that was the simplest way.

GEORGE. Olivia--(_crossing below and to her_ L.)--then you mean that Brian and Dinah think that--that we have been married all the time?

OLIVIA. Yes.

GEORGE (_coming closer to her_). Olivia, does that mean that you are thinking of marrying me?

OLIVIA. At your old registry office?

GEORGE (_eagerly_). Yes!

OLIVIA. To-morrow?

GEORGE. Yes.

OLIVIA. Do you want me to very much?

GEORGE. My darling, you know I do.

OLIVIA. We should have to keep it very quiet, George.

GEORGE. Well, of course--(_sitting to her_ L.)--nobody need know. We don't want anybody to know. And now that you've put Brian and Dinah off the scent, by telling them that--(_he breaks off and says admiringly_)-- that was very clever of you, Olivia. I should never have thought of that.

OLIVIA (_innocently_). George--you don't think it was _wrong_, do you?

GEORGE (_his verdict, taking her hands and patting them_). An innocent deception... perfectly harmless.

OLIVIA. Yes, dear, that was what I thought about--about--(_laughing to herself_) what I was doing.

GEORGE. Then you will come up to London to-morrow?

(_She nods_.)

And if we should see a carpet or anything else we want----

OLIVIA. Oh, George!

GEORGE (_beaming, rising and backing away to_ L. _a little_). And lunch at the Carlton, what?

OLIVIA (_nodding eagerly_). Oh!

GEORGE. And--and a bit of a honeymoon in Paris?

OLIVIA. Oh, what fun!

GEORGE (_hungrily_). Give me a kiss, old girl.

OLIVIA (_lovingly_). George!

(_She holds up her cheek to him. He kisses it, and then suddenly takes her in his arms_.)

GEORGE. Don't ever leave me, old girl.

OLIVIA (_affectionately_). Don't ever send me away, old boy.

GEORGE (_fervently_). I won't. (_Awkwardly_.) I--I don't think I _should have_ really, you know. I--I----

(DINAH _enters from up_ L. _and crosses at back of writing-table and round down_ R. BRIAN _follows her_.)

DINAH (_seeing the embrace, surprised_). Oo--I say!

(GEORGE _looks and feels rather a fool_.)

GEORGE. Hallo!

(OLIVIA _sits, resumes sewing_.)

DINAH (_coming down centre and going below settee_ L., _impetuously to him_). Give me one, too, George. Brian won't mind.

GEORGE (_formally, but enjoying it_). Do you mind, Mr. Strange?

BRIAN (_a little uncomfortable_). Oh, I say, sir----

GEORGE. We'll risk it, Dinah. (_He kisses her_.)

DINAH (_triumphantly to_ BRIAN _and standing above_ GEORGE). Did you notice that one? That wasn't just an ordinary affectionate kiss. That was a special "bless you my children" one. (_To_ GEORGE.) Wasn't it?

OLIVIA. You do talk nonsense, darling.

DINAH (_crossing quickly below and to_ R. _of_ BRIAN). Well, I'm so happy now that Pim has relented about your first husband--(GEORGE _catches_ OLIVIA'S _eye and smiles; she smiles back; but they are different smiles_.)

GEORGE (_the actor_). Yes, yes, stupid fellow, Pim, what?

BRIAN. Yes. Absolute idiot, I think!

DINAH. And now that George has relented about--(_with a significant look at_ BRIAN)--_my_ first husband----

GEORGE. Here, you get on much too quickly. (_Crossing below_ OLIVIA _to_ BRIAN.) So you want to marry my Dinah, eh?

BRIAN (_with a smile_). Well, I do rather, sir.

GEORGE (_to_ BRIAN). Well, you'd better have a talk with me about it--er-- (_with a sly look at_ OLIVIA)--Brian.

BRIAN. Thank you very much, sir.

(GEORGE _goes up and_ BRIAN, _imitating his walk, accompanies him_.)

GEORGE. Well, come along then. (BRIAN _looks at his watch_.) I am going up to town after tea, so we'd better----

DINAH (_moving up to_ R. _of_ BRIAN). I say, are you going to London?

GEORGE (_with a sly look at_ OLIVIA). Yes, a little business.

DINAH (_cheekily_). Eh?

GEORGE. Never you mind, young woman. (_To_ BRIAN.) Come along, we'll stroll down and look at the pigs.

BRIAN. Right-o!

(_They are going off to_ L. _when_ OLIVIA _calls_.)

OLIVIA. George, don't go too far away; I may want you.

GEORGE. All right! I'll be out on the terrace. Give me a shout if you want me.

(GEORGE _and_ BRIAN _go off at windows up_ L.)

(DINAH _follows up_ R. _and watches them off_.)

DINAH (_watching them off_). Brian and George always discuss me in front of the pigs. So tactless of them. I say, are you going to London, too, darling? (_Coming down to table_ L.C.)

OLIVIA. To-morrow----(_Rising and shaking out curtains_.)

DINAH. What are you going to do in London?

OLIVIA. Oh, shopping and--one or two little things.

DINAH. With George?

OLIVIA. Yes. (_Crossing up centre below_ DINAH _with curtains_.)

DINAH (_sits on table_ L.C.). I say, wasn't it lovely about Pim?

OLIVIA. Lovely?

DINAH. Yes, he told me all about it. Making such a hash of things, I mean.

OLIVIA (_innocently_). Did he make a hash of things?

DINAH. Well, I mean keeping on coming like that. And if you look at it all round--well, for all he had to say, he needn't have come at all.

OLIVIA. Well, I don't think I should put it quite like that, Dinah.

DINAH (_referring to curtains_). I say, aren't they jolly?

OLIVIA. I'm so glad everybody likes them. Tell George I'm ready, dear.

DINAH. I say, is _he_ going to put them up for you?

OLIVIA. Well, I thought perhaps he could reach better.

DINAH. All right, I'll tell him. (_Crossing up_ L. _on to terrace and calling off_.) George! (_Returning to back_ L. _end of writing-table_.) Brian is just telling George about the five shillings he has in the Post Office--(_crossing up_ L. _on to terrace again and calling off_.) George!!

GEORGE (_from off_ L.). Coming!

DINAH (_playfully coming down centre, imitating a fairy's footsteps_). Slow music while the curtains go up. (_Sits at piano and plays "As I passed by your Window.")_

(_GEORGE enters from up_ L., _followed by_ BRIAN.)

GEORGE (_to_ OLIVIA). What is it, darling?

OLIVIA. I wish you'd help me to put up these curtains?

GEORGE. Of course, dear. I'd better get the library steps. (_Crosses to doors R. and exits_.)

(BRIAN _goes quickly to OLIVIA and gratefully kisses her hand, then comes down to DINAH and bows to her_.)

BRIAN. Madam! I have the honour to inform you that hence-forward you are at liberty to regard me as your affianced husband.

DINAH (_rising quickly and advancing_). Darling!

BRIAN (_waving her back_). No! No! Stay there! (_She retreats and sits at piano_.) Go on playing.

(DINAH _goes on playing and he takes out a sketch-book, sits on settee and sketches her_.)

DINAH. What is it?

(OLIVIA _comes down centre, watching them_.)

BRIAN. Portrait of Lady Strange.

(_GEORGE enters from doors_ R. _with steps and crossing up R. places them near_ R. _window_.)

OLIVIA (_she hands him the curtains and goes up L. of writing table and round back, watching_ GEORGE). Are you ready, dear?

GEORGE (_mounting the steps_). Yes, quite ready.

OLIVIA. There! (_The curtains become entangled and he nearly falls_.) Oh, take care, dear!

GEORGE (_again mounting steps_). Oh, that's all right, dear. They're a little long. (_The curtains become entangled round his head_.)

(MR. PIM _enters mysteriously from up_ L.)

(OLIVIA _is looking up at_ GEORGE.)

(PIM _touches her on the shoulder and with a start she turns to him_. DINAH _seeing him enter stops playing. OLIVIA, unwilling to attract_ GEORGE'S _attention, signals to_ DINAH _to continue playing, and, she does so_.)

PIM. Mrs. Marden! I _had_ to come back--I've just remembered his name was _Ernest_ Polwittle--not _Henry_! (_Going off up_ L.) Not Henry!

(DINAH _plays forte_.)

QUICK CURTAIN.

SCENE PLOT

_Oak panelled chamber_, with deep decorative frieze.

_Ceiling cloth_, painted with carved oak beams.

_Fireplace_.--Large open stone fireplace decorated all over with flutings and carved stone.

_Doors_.--Heavy oak doors down R. to open off.

_Windows_.--C. windows (French windows) opening on stage from terrace.

_Stairs_.--Stairs up back R. with carved balustrade. Transparent windows stained glass at top of stairway.

_Back cloth_.--Painted garden and terrace with stone seat C.

PROPERTY PLOT