GEORGE (upset).  But you—­but we . . .

OLIVIA.  You see, dear, you’re George Marden, and I’m Olivia Telworthy, and you—­you’re attracted by me, and think I would make you a good wife, and you want to marry me.  Well, naturally you propose to me first, and—­tell me how much you are attracted by me, and what a good wife you think I shall make, and how badly you want to marry me.

GEORGE (falling into the humour of it, as he thinks).  The baby!  Did she want to be proposed to all over again?

OLIVIA.  Well, she did rather.

GEORGE (rather fancying himself as an actor).  She shall then. (He adopts what he considers to be an appropriate attitude) Mrs. Telworthy, I have long admired you in silence, and the time has now come to put my admiration into words.  Er—­(But apparently he finds a difficulty.)

OLIVIA (hopefully).  Into words.

GEORGE.  Er—­

OLIVIA (with the idea of helping).  Oh, Mr. Marden!

GEORGE.  Er—­may I call you Olivia?

OLIVIA.  Yes, George.

GEORGE (taking her hand).  Olivia—­I—­(He hesitates.)

OLIVIA.  I don’t want to interrupt, but oughtn’t you to be on your knees?  It is—­usual, I believe.  If one of the servants came in, you could say you were looking for my scissors.

GEORGE.  Really, Olivia, you must allow me to manage my own proposal in my own way.

OLIVIA (meekly).  I’m sorry.  Do go on.

GEORGE.  Well, er—­confound it, Olivia, I love you.  Will you marry me?

OLIVIA.  Thank you, George, I will think it over.

GEORGE (laughing).  Silly girl!  Well then, to-morrow morning.  No wedding-cake, I’m afraid, Olivia. (He laughs again) But we’ll go and have a good lunch somewhere.

OLIVIA.  I will think it over, George.

GEORGE (good-humouredly).  Well, give us a kiss while you’re thinking.

OLIVIA.  I’m afraid you mustn’t kiss me until we are actually engaged.

GEORGE (laughing uneasily).  Oh, we needn’t take it as seriously as all that.

OLIVIA.  But a woman must take a proposal seriously.

GEORGE (alarmed at last).  What do you mean?

OLIVIA.  I mean that the whole question, as I heard somebody say once, demands much more anxious thought than either of us has given it.  These hasty marriages—­

GEORGE.  Hasty!

OLIVIA.  Well, you’ve only just proposed to me, and you want to marry me to-morrow.

GEORGE.  Now you’re talking perfect nonsense, Olivia.  You know quite well that our case is utterly different from—­from any other.

OLIVIA.  All the same, one has to ask oneself questions.  With a young girl like—­well, with a young girl, love may well seem to be all that matters.  But with a woman of my age, it is different.  I have to ask myself if you can afford to support a wife.

GEORGE (coldly).  Fortunately that is a question that you can very easily answer for yourself.