OLIVIA (looking back at it).  When I was eighteen, I was in love.  Or perhaps I only thought I was, and I don’t know if I should have been happy or not if I had married him.  But my father made me marry a man called Jacob Telworthy; and when things were too hot for him in England—­“too hot for him”—­I think that was the expression we used in those days—­then we went to Australia, and I left him there, and the only happy moment I had in all my married life was on the morning when I saw in the papers that he was dead.

GEORGE (very uncomfortable).  Yes, yes, my dear, I know.  You must have had a terrible time.  I can hardly bear to think about it.  My only hope is that I have made up to you for it in some degree.  But I don’t see what bearing it has upon Dinah’s case.

OLIVIA.  Oh, none, except that my father liked Jacob’s political opinions and his views on art.  I expect that that was why he chose him for me.

GEORGE.  You seem to think that I wish to choose a husband for Dinah.  I don’t at all.  Let her choose whom she likes as long as he can support her and there’s a chance of their being happy together.  Now, with regard to this fellow—­

OLIVIA.  You mean Brian?

GEORGE.  He’s got no money, and he’s been brought up in quite a different way from Dinah.  Dinah may be prepared to believe that—­er—­all cows are blue, and that—­er—­waves are square, but she won’t go on believing it for ever.

OLIVIA.  Neither will Brian.

GEORGE.  Well, that’s what I keep telling him, only he won’t see it.  Just as I keep telling you about those ridiculous curtains.  It seems to me that I am the only person in the house with any eyesight left.

OLIVIA.  Perhaps you are, darling; but you must let us find out our own mistakes for ourselves.  At any rate, Brian is a gentleman; he loves Dinah, Dinah loves him; he’s earning enough to support himself, and you are earning enough to support Dinah.  I think it’s worth risking, George.

GEORGE (stiffly).  I can only say the whole question demands much more anxious thought than you seem to have given it.  You say that he is a gentleman.  He knows how to behave, I admit; but if his morals are as topsy-turvy as his tastes and—­er—­politics, as I’ve no doubt they are, then—­er—­In short, I do not approve of Brian Strange as a husband for my niece and ward.

OLIVIA (looking at him thoughtfully).  You are a curious mixture, George.  You were so very unconventional when you married me, and you’re so very conventional when Brian wants to marry Dinah. . . .  George Marden to marry the widow of a convict!

GEORGE.  Convict!  What do you mean?

OLIVIA.  Jacob Telworthy, convict—­I forget his number—­surely I told you all this, dear, when we got engaged?

GEORGE.  Never!

OLIVIA.  I told you how he carelessly put the wrong signature to a cheque for a thousand pounds in England; how he made a little mistake about two or three companies he’d promoted in Australia; and how—­