PIM (because they are so young).  Miss Dinah and Mr.—­er—­Brian, I have only come into your lives for a moment, and it is probable that I shall now pass out of them for ever, but you will allow an old man——­

DINAH.  Oh, not old!

PIM (chuckling happily).  Well, a middle-aged man—­to wish you both every happiness in the years that you have before you.  Good-bye, good-bye.

    [He disappears gently through the windows.

DINAH.  Brian, he’ll get lost if he goes that way.

BRIAN (going to the windows and calling after him).  Round to the left, sir. . . .  That’s right. (He comes back into the room) Rum old bird.  Who is he?

DINAH.  Darling, you haven’t kissed me yet.

BRIAN (taking her in his arms).  I oughtn’t to, but then one never ought to do the nice things.

DINAH.  Why oughtn’t you?

(They sit on the sofa together.)

BRIAN.  Well, we said we’d be good until we’d told your uncle and aunt all about it.  You see, being a guest in their house——­

DINAH.  But, darling child, what have you been doing all this morning except telling George?

BRIAN. Trying to tell George.

DINAH (nodding).  Yes, of course, there’s a difference.

BRIAN.  I think he guessed there was something up, and he took me down to see the pigs—­he said he had to see the pigs at once—­I don’t know why; an appointment perhaps.  And we talked about pigs all the way, and I couldn’t say, “Talking about pigs, I want to marry your niece——­”

DINAH (with mock indignation).  Of course you couldn’t.

BRIAN.  No.  Well, you see how it was.  And then when we’d finished talking about pigs, we started talking to the pigs——­

DINAH (eagerly).  Oh, how is Arnold?

BRIAN.  The little black-and-white one?  He’s very jolly, I believe, but naturally I wasn’t thinking about him much.  I was wondering how to begin.  And then Lumsden came up, and wanted to talk pig-food, and the atmosphere grew less and less romantic, and—­and I gradually drifted away.

DINAH.  Poor darling.  Well, we shall have to approach him through
Olivia.

BRIAN.  But I always wanted to tell her first; she’s so much easier. 
Only you wouldn’t let me.

DINAH.  That’s your fault, Brian.  You would tell Olivia that she ought to have orange-and-black curtains.

BRIAN.  But she wants orange-and-black curtains.

DINAH.  Yes, but George says he’s not going to have any futuristic nonsense in an honest English country house, which has been good enough for his father and his grandfather and his great-grandfather, and—­and all the rest of them.  So there’s a sort of strained feeling between Olivia and George just now, and if Olivia were to—­sort of recommend you, well, it wouldn’t do you much good.

BRIAN (looking at her).  I see.  Of course I know what you want,
Dinah.