BRIAN.  Good morning.

    [He and DINAH go out.

OLIVIA.  You must forgive them, Mr. Pim.  They’re such children.  And naturally they’re rather excited just now.

PIM.  Oh, not at all, Mrs. Marden.

OLIVIA.  Of course you won’t say anything about their engagement.  We only heard about it five minutes ago, and nothing has been settled yet.

PIM.  Of course, of course!

    [Enter GEORGE.

GEORGE.  Ah, Mr. Pim, we meet at last.  Sorry to have kept you waiting before.

PIM.  The apology should come from me, Mr. Marden for having—­er—­

GEORGE.  Not at all.  Very glad to meet you now.  Any friend of Brymer’s.  You want a letter to this man Fanshawe?

OLIVIA.  Shall I be in your way at all?

PIM.  Oh, no, no, please don’t.

GEORGE.  It’s only just a question of a letter. (Going to his desk) Fanshawe will put you in the way of seeing all that you want to see.  He’s a very old friend of mine. (Taking a sheet of notepaper) You’ll stay to lunch, of course?

PIM.  I’m afraid I am lunching with the Trevors—­

GEORGE.  Oh, well, they’ll look after you all right.  Good chap, Trevor.

PIM (to OLIVIA).  You see, Mrs. Marden, I have only recently arrived from Australia after travelling about the world for some years, and I’m rather out of touch with my—­er—­fellow-workers in London.

OLIVIA.  Oh yes.  You’ve been in Australia, Mr. Pim?

GEORGE (disliking Australia).  I shan’t be a moment, Mr. Pim. (He frowns at OLIVIA.)

PIM.  Oh, that’s all right, thank you. (to OLIVIA) Oh yes, I have been in Australia more than once in the last few years.

OLIVIA.  Really?  I used to live at Sydney many years ago.  Do you know Sydney at all?

GEORGE (detesting Sydney).  H’r’m!  Perhaps I’d better mention that you are a friend of the Trevors?

PIM.  Thank you, thank you. (to OLIVIA) Indeed yes, I spent several months in Sydney.

OLIVIA.  How curious.  I wonder if we have any friends in common there.

GEORGE (hastily).  Extremely unlikely, I should think.  Sydney is a very big place.

PIM.  True, but the world is a very small place, Mr. Marden.  I had a remarkable instance of that, coming over on the boat this last time.

GEORGE.  Ah! (Feeling that the conversation is now safe, he resumes his letter.)

PIM.  Yes.  There was a man I used to employ in Sydney some years ago, a bad fellow, I’m afraid, Mrs. Marden, who had been in prison for some kind of fraudulent company-promoting and had taken to drink and—­and so on.

OLIVIA.  Yes, yes, I understand.

PIM.  Drinking himself to death I should have said.  I gave him at the most another year to live.  Yet to my amazement the first person I saw as I stepped on board the boat that brought me to England last week was this fellow.  There was no mistaking him.  I spoke to him, in fact; we recognised each other.