GEORGE.  Yes, yes, but you never told me he was convicted!

OLIVIA.  What difference does it make?

GEORGE.  My dear Olivia, if you can’t see that—­a convict!

OLIVIA.  So, you see, we needn’t be too particular about our niece, need we?

GEORGE.  I think we had better leave your first husband out of the conversation altogether.  I never wished to refer to him; I never wish to hear about him again.  I certainly had not realised that he was actually—­er—­convicted for his—­er—­

OLIVIA.  Mistakes.

GEORGE.  Well, we needn’t go into that.  As for this other matter, I don’t for a moment take it seriously.  Dinah is an exceptionally pretty girl, and young Strange is a good-looking boy.  If they are attracted to each other, it is a mere outward attraction which I am convinced will not lead to any lasting happiness.  That must be regarded as my last word in the matter, Olivia.  If this Mr.—­er—­what was his name, comes, I shall be down at the farm.

    [He goes out by the door.

(Left alone, OLIVIA brings out her curtains again, and gets calmly to work upon them.)

(DINAH and BRIAN come in by the windows.)

DINAH.  Finished?

OLIVIA.  Oh no, I’ve got all these rings to put on.

DINAH.  I meant talking to George.

BRIAN.  We walked about outside—­

DINAH.  Until we heard him not talking to you any more—­

BRIAN.  And we didn’t kiss each other once.

DINAH.  Brian was very George-like.  He wouldn’t even let me tickle the back of his neck. (She goes up suddenly to OLIVIA and kneels by her and kisses her) Darling, being George-like is a very nice thing to be—­I mean a nice thing for other people to be—­I mean—­oh, you know what I mean.  But say that he’s going to be decent about it.

OLIVIA.  Of course he is, Dinah.

BRIAN.  You mean he’ll let me come here as—­as—­

DINAH.  As my young man?

OLIVIA.  Oh, I think so.

DINAH.  Olivia, you’re a wonder.  Have you really talked him round?

OLIVIA.  I haven’t said anything yet.  But I daresay I shall think of something.

DINAH (disappointedly).  Oh!

BRIAN (making the best of it).  After all, Dinah, I’m going back to
London to-morrow—­

OLIVIA.  You can be good for one more day, Dinah, and then when Brian isn’t here, we’ll see what we can do.

DINAH.  Yes, but I didn’t want him to go back to-morrow.

BRIAN (sternly).  Must.  Hard work before me.  Earn thousands a year.  Paint the Mayor and Corporation of Pudsey, life-size, including chains of office; paint slice of haddock on plate.  Copy Landseer for old gentleman in Bayswater.  Design antimacassar for middle-aged sofa in Streatham.  Earn a living for you, Dinah.

DINAH (giggling).  Oh, Brian, you’re heavenly.  What fun we shall have when we’re married.