GEORGE.  Oh—­ah—­yes, of course, Aunt Julia.

LADY MARDEN.  Better take your solicitor with you to be on the safe side. . . .  To the Registry Office, I mean.

GEORGE.  Yes.

LADY MARDEN (getting up).  Well, I must be getting along, George.  Say good-bye to Olivia for me.  And those children.  Of course, you won’t allow this absurd love-business between them to come to anything?

GEORGE.  Most certainly not.  Good-bye, Aunt Julia!

LADY MARDEN (indicating the windows).  I’ll go this way. (As she goes) And get Olivia out more, George.  I don’t like these hysterics.  You want to be firm with her.

GEORGE (firmly) Yes, yes!  Good-bye!

(He waves to her and then goes back to his seat.)

(OLIVIA comes in, and stands in the middle of the room looking at him. 
He comes to her eagerly.)

GEORGE (holding out his hands).  Olivia!  Olivia! (But it is not so easy as that.)

OLIVIA (drawing herself up proudly).  Mrs. Telworthy!

ACT III

(OLIVIA is standing where we left her at the end of the last act.)

GEORGE (taken aback).  Olivia, I—­I don’t understand.

OLIVIA (leaving melodrama with a little laugh and coming down to him).  Poor George!  Did I frighten you rather?

GEORGE.  You’re so strange to-day.  I don’t understand you.  You’re not like the Olivia I know.

(They sit down on the sofa together.)

OLIVIA.  Perhaps you don’t know me very well after all.

GEORGE (affectionately).  Oh, that’s nonsense, old girl.  You’re just my
Olivia.

OLIVIA.  And yet it seemed as though I wasn’t going to be your Olivia half an hour ago.

GEORGE (with a shudder).  Don’t talk about it.  It doesn’t bear thinking about.  Well, thank Heaven that’s over.  Now we can get married again quietly and nobody will be any the wiser.

OLIVIA.  Married again?

GEORGE.  Yes, dear.  As you—­er—­(he laughs uneasily) said just now, you are Mrs. Telworthy.  Just for the moment.  But we can soon put that right.  My idea was to go up this evening and—­er—­make arrangements, and if you come up to-morrow morning, if we can manage it by then, we could get quietly married at a Registry Office, and—­er—­nobody any the wiser.

OLIVIA.  Yes, I see.  You want me to marry you at a Registry Office to-morrow?

GEORGE.  If we can arrange it by then.  I don’t know how long these things take, but I should imagine there would be no difficulty.

OLIVIA.  Oh no, that part ought to be quite easy.  But—­(She hesitates.)

GEORGE.  But what?

OLIVIA.  Well, if you want to marry me to-morrow, George, oughtn’t you to propose to me first?

GEORGE (amazed).  Propose?

OLIVIA.  Yes.  It is usual, isn’t it, to propose to a person before you marry her, and—­and we want to do the usual thing, don’t we?