(He walks towards the windows.)

BRIAN (indignantly).  Is there any reason why I shouldn’t marry a girl who has been properly brought up?

GEORGE.  I think you know my views, Strange.

OLIVIA.  George, wait a moment, dear.  We can’t quite leave it like this.

GEORGE.  I have said all I want to say on the subject.

OLIVIA.  Yes, darling, but I haven’t begun to say all that I want to say on the subject.

GEORGE.  Of course, if you have anything to say, Olivia, I will listen to it; but I don’t know that this is quite the time, or that you have chosen—­(looking darkly at the curtains)—­quite the occupation likely to—­er—­endear your views to me.

DINAH (mutinously).  I may as well tell you, Uncle George, that I have got a good deal to say, too.

OLIVIA.  I can guess what you are going to say, Dinah, and I think you had better keep it for the moment.

DINAH (meekly).  Yes, Aunt Olivia.

OLIVIA.  Brian, you might take her outside for a walk.  I expect you have plenty to talk about.

GEORGE.  Now mind, Strange, no love-making.  I put you on your honour about that.

BRIAN.  I’ll do my best to avoid it, sir.

DINAH (cheekily).  May I take his arm if we go up a hill?

OLIVIA.  I’m sure you’ll know how to behave—­both of you.

BRIAN.  Come on, then, Dinah.

DINAH.  Righto.

GEORGE (as they go).  And if you do see any clouds, Strange, take a good look at them. (He chuckles to himself) Triangular clouds—­I never heard of such nonsense. (He goes back to his chair at the writing-table) Futuristic rubbish. . . .  Well, Olivia?

OLIVIA.  Well, George?

GEORGE.  What are you doing?

OLIVIA.  Making curtains, George.  Won’t they be rather sweet?  Oh, but I forgot—­you don’t like them.

GEORGE.  I don’t like them, and what is more, I don’t mean to have them in my house.  As I told you yesterday, this is the house of a simple country gentleman, and I don’t want any of these new-fangled ideas in it.

OLIVIA.  Is marrying for love a new-fangled idea?

GEORGE.  We’ll come to that directly.  None of you women can keep to the point.  What I am saying now is that the house of my fathers and forefathers is good enough for me.

OLIVIA.  Do you know, George, I can hear one of your ancestors saying that to his wife in their smelly old cave, when the new-fangled idea of building houses was first suggested.  “The Cave of my Fathers is—­”

GEORGE.  That’s ridiculous.  Naturally we must have progress.  But that’s just the point. (Indicating the curtains) I don’t call this sort of thing progress.  It’s—­ah—­retrogression.

OLIVIA.  Well, anyhow, it’s pretty.

GEORGE.  There I disagree with you.  And I must say once more that I will not have them hanging in my house.