OLIVIA. Perhaps you are, darling; but you must let us find out our own mistakes for ourselves. (_Sits on stool_ L.C.) 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.

GEORGE (_amazed_). What?

OLIVIA. 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 (_rising and moving to_ L.), then-er--In short, I do _not_ approve of Brian Strange as a husband for my niece and ward. (_Knocks pipe out down_ L.)

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 (_advancing_). 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. Oh, but 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--

GEORGE. Yes, yes (_crossing slowly to_ C. _below_ OLIVIA), but you never told me he'd been--er--well--_convicted_!

OLIVIA. What difference does it make?

GEORGE. My dear Olivia, if you can't see that--a--a--oh, well!

OLIVIA. Oh! A convict! 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 realized that he was actually-- er--well--convicted for his--er--(_moving to writing-table and picking up his cap_).

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.

(_Coming down to back of settee_ L.) If they are attracted to each other, it is a mere outward attraction which I am convinced will not lead to any lasting happiness. (OLIVIA _is about to protest_.) 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. (GEORGE _goes out by the staircase up_ R.)

(_Left alone,_ OLIVIA _rises, goes up_ C., _takes up her curtains again and crossing down_ L. _sits on settee, and gets calmly to work upon them_.)

(DINAH _comes in by the windows from up_ R. _and crosses to_ L. _window at back, then seeing_ OLIVIA, _beckons to_ BRIAN _and runs down to back of settee to_ R. _of_ OLIVIA. BRIAN _enters from up_ R., _and follows down to back of table_ L.C.)

DINAH (_over back of settee_). Finished?

OLIVIA (_startled_). Oh, no, I've got all these rings to put on.

DINAH. I meant talking to George.

OLIVIA. Oh!

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 AND BRIAN (_pointing roguishly and with satisfaction at_ OLIVIA).

Ah!

DINAH. Brian was very George-like. He wouldn't even let me tickle the back of his neck. (_She goes suddenly to_ OLIVIA _and sits on her_ L.) Darling (_putting her arms round_ OLIVIA _and kissing her_), 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 (_sits on stool_ L.C., _and leans forward eagerly_). You mean he'll let me come here as--as----

DINAH. As my young man?

OLIVIA. Oh, I think so.

DINAH (_kissing_ OLIVIA). Olivia, you're a wonder.

(_Embraces her round the neck_.)

(_Rising and crossing below_ BRIAN, _touching him on the shoulder_.)

Brian!

(_Crossing to piano, sits and plays five bars of "The Wedding March,"

rises and crosses at back of_ BRIAN _to_ L. _of_ OLIVIA _behind settee_.)

Have you really talked him round?

OLIVIA. I haven't said anything yet.

DINAH (_very disappointed_). Oh!

(BRIAN _rises and backs to_ C.)

OLIVIA. But I dare say I shall think of something.

BRIAN. Oh! my lord.

DINAH (_disappointedly_). Oh!

BRIAN (_going up_ C.). After all, Dinah, I'm going back to London to- morrow----

DINAH (_crossing quickly towards_ BRIAN). Oh, no, no!

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

DINAH (_placing her hands on_ BRIAN'S _shoulders_). Yes, but I didn't want him to go back to-morrow.

BRIAN (_sternly, taking her hands away_). Must. Hard work before me.

(DINAH _moves to back of table_ L.C.) Earn thousands a year. (_Going down_ R. DINAH _and_ OLIVIA _are amused_). 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 antimaca.s.sar for middle-aged sofa in Streatham. (_Sitting and putting his legs up on settee R_.) Oh, yes. Earn a living for you. Dinah.

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