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Mr Pim Passes By - script

ACT ONE

The morning-room at Marden House (Buckinghamshire) decided more than a hundred years ago that it was all right, and has not bothered about itself since. Visitors to the house have called the result such different adjectives as "mellow," "old-fashioned," "charming"–even "baronial" and "antique;" but nobody ever said it was "exciting." Sometimes Olivia wants it to be more exciting, and last week she rather let herself go over some new curtains; she still has the rings to put on. It is obvious that the curtains alone will overdo the excitement; they will have to be harmonized with a new carpet and cushions. Olivia has her eye on just the things, but one has to go carefully with George. What was good enough for his great-great grandfather is good enough for him. However, we can trust Olivia to see him through it, although it may take time.

At curtain, Dinah enters dancing, and humming, she is very pretty, very happy, and full of boyish high spirits and conversation. She dances to to piano, sits and plays a few bars and sings. While she is playing, we hear a knock at the door. After not getting an answer, Pim peeks his head in, and then slowly approaches Dinah at the piano. He startles her as he slowly makes his arrival known.

DINAH. Hullo!

PIM. You must forgive me, but... Good morning, Mrs. Marden.

DINAH. Oh, I say, I'm not Mrs. Marden. I'm Dinah.

PIM (with a smile). Then I will say, Good morning. Miss Diana.

DINAH (reproachfully). Now, look here, if you and I are going to be friends, you mustn't do that. Dinah, not Diana. Do remember it, there's a good man, because I get so tired of correcting people. Have you come to stay with us? (Sits down.)

PIM. Well, no, Miss–er–Dinah.

DINAH (nodding). That's right. I can see I shan't have to speak to you again. Now tell me your name, and I bet you I get it right first time. And do sit down.

PIM. (sits down) Thank you. My name is–er–Pim, Carraway Pim–

DINAH. Pim, that's easy.

PIM. And I have a letter of introduction to your father–

DINAH. Oh, no; now you're going wrong again, Mr. Pim. George isn't my father; he's my uncle. Uncle George. (Sitting on table, facing Pim.) You see, he's been my guardian since I was about two, and then about five years ago he married a widow called Mrs. Telworthy.

PIM (repeating). Mrs. Telworthy.

DINAH. That's Olivia–so she became my Aunt Olivia, only she lets me drop the Aunt. (Speaking very sharply.) Get that?

PIM (a little alarmed). I–I think so, Miss Marden.

DINAH (admiringly). I say, you are quick, Mr. Pim. Well, if you take my advice, when you've finished your business with George, you will hang about a bit and see if you can't see Olivia. (Rising) She's simply–(feeling for the word)–devastating. I don't wonder George fell in love with her. (Moving to above piano right, looking at photos, etc.)

PIM (rising and looking at his watch). It's only the merest matter of business–just a few words with your uncle–Perhaps I'd better...

DINAH (looking at photo on top end of piano). Well, you must please yourself, Mr. Pim. I'm just giving you a friendly word of advice. Naturally, I was awfully glad to get such a magnificent aunt. (Moving down to left of piano and taking up and looking at photo of Olivia.) Because, after all, marriage is rather a toss up, isn't it?–

PIM (taken aback). Well, I don't, know, I haven't had any experience...

DINAH (continuing). And George might have gone off with anybody, all the ladies were quite fond of him. (Moving to Pim.)

PIM. But he married–er–Mrs. Telworthy.

DINAH. Yes, Mrs. Telworthy–my, you are getting good with names, Mr. Pim! (Moves to and sits on settee.) You see, Olivia married the Telworthy man and went to Australia with him, and he drank himself to death in the bush, or wherever you drink yourself to death out there, and Olivia came home to England, and met my uncle, and he fell in love with her and proposed to her–(rises and kneels on settee)– Telworthy, isn't it a funny name?

PIM. Oh, a most curious name–Telworthy. From Australia, you say?

DINAH. Yes, I always say that he's probably still alive, and will turn up here one morning and annoy George.

PIM (shocked). Oh!

DINAH. But I'm afraid there's not much chance.

PIM (shocked). Miss Marden! Really!

DINAH, Well, of course, I don't really want it to happen, but it would be rather exciting. (Crossing to Pim.) Wouldn't it, Mr Pim?

PIM. Exciting! (Pim crosses to below settee.)

DINAH. However, things like that never seem to occur down here, somehow, (Running up into window. Pim watches her.) Of course, something very, very wonderful did happen last night. (Backing away.) No, no! I'm not sure if I know you well enough–(She looks at him hesitatingly.)

PIM (uncomfortably). Really, Miss Marden, you mustn't. I am only a–a passer-by, here today and gone tomorrow. You really mustn't–

DINAH (looking round and down to Pim), And yet there's something about you, Mr. Pim, which inspires confidence.

PIM (moving stage left). Oh, no. Really, you mustn't tell me.

DINAH (taking his arm). The fact is–(in a stage whisper)–I got engaged last night!

PIM. Dear me, let me congratulate you. I wish somebody would come here.

DINAH (running up to foot of staircase and looking off), I expect that's why George is keeping you such a long time. (Turning to Pim.) Brian, my young man, the well-known painter–only nobody has ever heard of him– he's smoking a pipe with George in the library and asking for his niece's hand. (Coming back to Pim, and taking his hands, she dances round with him in a circle. Pim falls exhausted and coughing on to settee right and Dinah, laughing, sits on settee left) Isn't it exciting? You're really rather lucky, Mr. Pim–I mean being told so soon. Even Olivia doesn't know yet.

PIM. Yes, yes, I congratulate you, Miss Marden. I had better go now and return a little later. I have an errand to run in town. Perhaps by the time I come back your uncle will be able–(About to get up.)

(Brian Strange enters. He is what George calls a futuristic painter chap. To look at he is very pleasant, rather untidily dressed. He is about to tell Dinah the result of his interview with George when he catches sight of Pim.)

DINAH. Hullo, here's Brian! (Crossing to Brian, seizing him.) Brian, this is Mr. Pim! Mr. Carraway Pim. He's been telling me all about himself.

PIM. I haven't said a word. I never opened my mouth.

DINAH. It's so interesting. Mr. Pim–(coyly and moving down to head of settee)–this is Brian–you know...

BRIAN (nodding). How-do-you-do?

PIM. How-do-you-do, sir?

DINAH (pleadingly and crossing from Brian to Pim), You won't mind running your errand now, will you? Because, you see, Brian and I–(She looks lovingly at Brian.)

PIM (moved to sentiment). Miss Dinah and Mr.–er–Brian, I have only

come into your lives for a moment, and it is probable that I shall now pass out of them for ever. Good-bye–(shaking hands with Dinah)–good-bye, and thank you so much. (Pim exits.)

DINAH. (to Brian) Darling, you haven't kissed me yet.

BRIAN (moving up to her and pulling her down to settee). Oh, I say. I oughtn't to, but then one never ought to do the nice things.

DINAH. Why oughtn't you?

BRIAN. Well, we said we'd be good until we'd told your uncle and aunt all about it. You see, being a guest in their house–

DINAH. But, darling child, what have you been doing all this morning except telling George?

BRIAN. Oh, trying to tell George.

DINAH (nodding). Yes, of course, there's a difference.

BRIAN. I think he guessed there was something up, and he took me down to see the pigs–he said he had to see the pigs at once–I don't know why; an appointment perhaps. And we talked about pigs all the way, and I couldn't say, "Talking about pigs, I want to marry your niece–"

DINAH (with mock indignation). Oh, of course you couldn't.

BRIAN. No. Well, you see how it was. And then when we'd finished talking about pigs, we started talking to the pigs–

DINAH (eagerly). Oh, how is Arnold?

BRIAN. Arnold...? Oh yes, that's the little black-and-white one? He's very jolly, I believe, but naturally I wasn't thinking about him much. I was wondering how to begin. And then Lumsden came up, and wanted to talk pig-food, and the atmosphere grew less and less romantic, and–and I gradually drifted away.

DINAH. Oh, poor darling! Well, we shall have to approach him through Olivia.

BRIAN. But I always wanted to tell her first; she's so much easier. Only you wouldn't let me.

DINAH. That's your fault, Brian. You would tell Olivia that she ought to have orange-and-black curtains in here.

BRIAN. But she wants orange and black curtains in here.

DINAH. Yes. (Rising.) But George says he's not going to have any Futuristic nonsense in an honest English country house, which has been good enough for his father and his grandfather and his great-grandfather, and–and all the rest of them. (Kneels on settee.) So there's a sort of strained feeling between Olivia and George just now, and if Olivia were to–sort of recommend you, well, it wouldn't do you much good.

BRIAN (looking at her). I see. Of course I know what you want, Dinah.

DINAH. What do I want?

BRIAN. You want a secret engagement–

DINAH. Oh!

BRIAN. And notes left under door-mats–

DINAH. Oh!

BRIAN. And meetings by the withered thorn–

DINAH. Oh!

BRIAN. When all the household is asleep.

DINAH. Oh!

BRIAN. I know you.

DINAH. Oh, but it is such fun! I love meeting people by withered thorns.

BRIAN. Well, I'm not going to have it.

DINAH (childishly, sitting close to him). Oh, George! Look at us being husbandy!

BRIAN. You babe! I adore you. You know, you're rather throwing yourself away on me. Do you mind?

DINAH (putting her legs up on settee and reclining her head on his shoulder). Not a bit.

BRIAN. We shall never be rich, but we shall have lots of fun, and meet interesting people, and feel that we're doing something worth doing, and not getting paid nearly enough for it, and–oh, it's an exciting life.

DINAH (seeing it). I shall love it.

BRIAN (sincerely). I'll make you love it. You shan't be sorry, Dinah.

DINAH. You shan't be sorry either, Brian.

BRIAN (looking at her lovingly). Oh, I know I shan't.... What will Olivia think about it? Will she be surprised?

DINAH. Olivia? Oh, she's never surprised. She always seems to have thought of things about half an hour before they happen. George just begins to get hold of them about half an hour after they've happened. (Considering him, stroking his hair.) After all, there's no reason why George shouldn't like you, darling.

BRIAN. I'm not his sort, you know, really.

DINAH. You're more Olivia's sort. Well, we'll tell Olivia this morning. (Olivia enters.)

OLIVIA (coming in). And what are you going to tell Olivia this morning? (They jump up and go to her.)

DINAH. Olivia, darling–

OLIVIA. Oh, well, I think I can guess. (Dinah goes to her right, and Brian to her left., and they bring her down center stage.)

BRIAN (following). Say you understand, Mrs. Marden.

OLIVIA (smiling). And how many people have been told the good news?

BRIAN. Nobody yet.

DINAH. Except Mr. Pim.

BRIAN (crossing down to Dinah). Oh, does he–

OLIVIA. Who's Mr. Pim?

DINAH. Oh, he just happened–(Olivia takes curtains and work-basket from centre cupboard of cabinet.)–I say, are those the curtains? Then you're going to have them after all?

OLIVIA (with an air of surprise, coming and putting work-basket on table and sitting with curtains). After all what? But I decided on them long ago. (To Brian.) You haven't told George yet.

BRIAN. I began to, you know, but I never got any farther than "Er– there's just–er–"

DINAH (crossing quickly to Olivia and speaking into her face). George would talk about pigs all the time.

OLIVIA. Well, I suppose you want me to help you.

DINAH (sitting to left of Olivia). Oh, do, darling.

BRIAN (sits on stool). It would be awfully decent of you. Of course, I'm not quite his sort really–

DINAH. You're my sort.

BRIAN. But I don't think he objects to me, and–

George enters, a typical, narrow-minded, honest country gentleman. Brian rises hurriedly and crosses. Dinah rises. Olivia unfolds curtains and prepares to sew.

GEORGE (at the windows–he does not see Brian). Hullo! Hullo! Hullo!

DINAH. Hullo, Uncle George. There was a Mr. Pim here to see you.

GEORGE. A Mr. Pim? Never heard of him in my life!

DINAH. He said he had a letter of introduction, Uncle George.

GEORGE. Oh, you saw him, did you!

DINAH. He had to run an errand in town. He's coming back.

OLIVIA. Pass me those scissors, Brian.

BRIAN (crossing to table). These? (he passes them.)

OLIVIA (giving Brian a nod of encouragement and looking round at Dinah). Thank you.

GEORGE. Coming back, you say, Dinah? (Dinah nods.) Then I'll be going back too. Send him down to the farm, Olivia, when he comes. (Going up meets Brian.) Hallo, what happened to you?

OLIVIA. Don't go, George, there's something we want to talk about.

(Dinah gives a long whistle. All look sheepish and George notices their attitude.)

GEORGE. Hallo, what's this?

BRIAN (quickly and over back of table to Olivia). Shall I—! (Dinah pantomimes. "Yes, do.")

OLIVIA (with a roguish loot at Dinah). Yes. (Sticks needle in work.)

BRIAN (stepping out to center). I've been wanting to tell you this morning, sir, only I didn't seem to have an opportunity of getting it out.

GEORGE. Well, what is it?

(Brian, taken aback for a moment, looks to Olivia for encouragement. She nods approval and turning to Dinah, takes her hand encouragingly–)

BRIAN (boldly). I want to marry Dinah, sir.

GEORGE. You want to marry Dinah? God bless my soul!

DINAH (rushing to George and her hands on his shoulder). Oh, do say you like the idea, Uncle George.

GEORGE. Like the idea! (Taking her hands from his shoulder.) Have you heard of this nonsense, Olivia? (Movement of annoyance from Dinah.)

OLIVIA. They've just this moment told me, George. I think they would be happy together.

GEORGE (crossing). And what do you propose to be happy together on?

BRIAN. Well, of course, I know it doesn't amount to much at present, but we shan't starve.

DINAH. Brian got fifty pounds for a picture last March!

GEORGE (a little upset by this). Oh! (Recovering gamely.) And how many pictures have you sold since?

BRIAN (gives a nervous look at Olivia and Dinah). Well, none, but–

GEORGE. None! And I don't wonder. Who the devil is going to buy pictures with triangular clouds and square sheep? (Brian, annoyed, crosses.) And they call that Art nowadays! Good God, man (moving up to the windows), go outside and look at the clouds!

OLIVIA (busy stitching rings on curtains). If he draws round clouds in the future, George, will you let him marry Dinah? (George looks round, annoyed. Brian is hopeful and comes down towards Dinah.)

GEORGE (upset by this, coming down to head of table). What–what? Yes, of course, you would be on his side–all this Futuristic nonsense. (Olivia commences to sew.)

BRIAN (ingratiatingly). After all, sir, at my age one is naturally experimenting, and trying to find one's (with a laugh)–well, it sounds priggish, but one's medium of expression. I shall find out what I want to do directly, but I think I shall always be able to earn enough to live on.

GEORGE. I see, and now you want to experiment with a wife–

BRIAN. Yes–no–no–

DINAH. Yes, you do,

BRIAN. Yes.

GEORGE. And you propose to experimenting with my niece?

BRIAN (with a shrug). Well, of course, if you–

GEORGE (hedging). It isn't merely a question of money. I just mention that as one thing–one of the important things.

DINAH. Oh!

GEORGE. In short, I cannot at all approve of any engagement between you. (Dinah throws up her arms and buries her face in her hands on piano.) (Getting up.) Olivia, if this Mr.–er–Pim comes, I shall be down at the farm. You might send him along to me. (He crosses to exit.)

OLIVIA. George, wait a moment, dear. We can't quite leave it like this.

GEORGE. I have said all I want to say on the subject.

OLIVIA. Yes, darling, but I haven't begun to say all that I want to say on the subject. (George crosses back to table and sits.)

DINAH (mutinously, rising quickly and crossing to stool on which she kneels and looks up into George's face and bangs the table). I may as well tell you, Uncle George, that I have got a good deal to say, too. (Brian crosses to her, gingerly pulling her sleeve, trying to restrain her.)

OLIVIA. Yes, darling. I can guess what you are going to say, Dinah, and I think you had better keep it for the moment.

DINAH (meekly, backing away). Yes, Aunt Olivia.

OLIVIA. Brian, you might take her outside for a walk. I expect you have plenty to talk about. (Brian and Dinah move to exit.)

GEORGE (as they go). And if you do see any clouds, Strange, take a good look at them. (He chuckles to himself.) Well, Olivia?

OLIVIA (sewing curtains). Well, George?

GEORGE. What are you doing?

OLIVIA. Making curtains–(grunt of disapproval from George)–George. Won't they be rather sweet? Oh, but I forgot–you don't like them.

GEORGE. No. I don't like them, and what is more, I don't mean to have them in my house. As I told you yesterday, this is the house of a simple country gentleman, and I don't want any of these new-fangled ideas in it.

OLIVIA. Is marrying for love a new-fangled idea?

GEORGE. We'll come to that directly. What I am saying now is that the house of my fathers and forefathers is good enough for me.

OLIVIA. Do you know, George, I can hear one of your ancestors saying that to his wife in their smelly old cave–(George looks up annoyed at her levity)–when the new-fangled idea of building houses was first suggested. "The Cave of my Forefathers is good enough for—"

GEORGE (rising). That's ridiculous. Naturally we must have progress. But that's just the point. (Indicating the curtains.) I don't call this sort of thing progress. It's–ah–retrogression.

OLIVIA. Well, anyhow, it's pretty.

GEORGE. There I disagree with you. And I must say once more that I will not have them hanging in my house.

OLIVIA. Very well, George. (But she goes on working.)

GEORGE (seeing her continuing to sew, stops). That being so, I don't see the necessity of going on with them.

OLIVIA. Well, I must do something with them now I've got the material. (George goes up to the table, sits and writes.)

GEORGE (shouting). Put those beastly things away.

OLIVIA (rising and gathering up the curtains). Very well, George. (Crosses and places the curtains on top of the cabinet.)

GEORGE (waits impatiently until she has put them away on top of cabinet). Ah! That's better. (Olivia comes to table, closes her workbox and then crosses to settee. George rising and crossing down to Olivia and placing arms lovingly on her shoulder). Now look here, Olivia, you know you’re my girl and I love you.

OLIVIA. As much as Brian loves Dinah?

GEORGE (stiffly, taking her hands from his shoulders). I've said all I want to say about that. (He goes away from her.) These kind of marriages invariably lead to unhappiness.

OLIVIA. Of course, my first marriage wasn't a happy one.

GEORGE. As you know, Olivia, I dislike speaking about your first marriage at all–but since you mention it–well, there's a case in point.

OLIVIA. My father made me marry Mr. Jacob Telworthy. (George looks up at her, annoyed.) And when things were too hot for him in England– "too hot for him"–I think that was the expression we used in those days– then we went to Australia, and I left him there. And the only happy moment I had in all my married life was on the morning when I saw in the papers that he was dead. (Leans with her arms over back of settee.)

GEORGE (very uncomfortable yet lovingly taking her hands). Yes, yes, my dear, I know, I know. You must have had a terrible time. But I don't see what bearing it has upon Dinah's case.

OLIVIA. Oh, none, except that my father was fond Jacob's financial situation and his views on art. I expect that that was why he chose him for me.

GEORGE. You seem to think that I wish to choose a husband for Dinah. I don't at all. Let her choose whom she likes as long as he can support her and there's a chance of their being happy together.

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 check 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, 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 table and picking up his cap).

OLIVIA. Mistakes.

GEORGE. That is quite enough of this, Olivia. If this Mr.–er–what was his name, comes, I shall be down at the farm. (George exits.) (Left alone, Olivia rises, takes up her curtains again, sits on settee, and gets calmly to work upon them. Dinah and Brian enter.)

DINAH. Finished?

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

DINAH. I meant talking to George.

OLIVIA. I haven't said anything yet.

DINAH (very disappointed). Oh!

OLIVIA. But I dare say I shall think of something. (Rising and looking about her).

DINAH. Come on, Brian, let's go out. I feel open-airy. (They cross toward exit, opening door.)

OLIVIA. Don't be late for lunch. Lady Marden is coming.

DINAH. Aunt Juli-ah! Help! (She faints in Brian's arms.) That means a clean pinafore. Brian, you'll jolly well have to brush your hair. (As Dinah and Brian are faced the other way, Mr. Pim sheepishly enters through the open door.)

DINAH (turns back, sees Mr. Pim, delighted). Hullo. Mr. Pim! (Imitating a clown.) Here we are again! You can't get rid of us so easily, you see.

PIM. I–er–dear Miss Marden—

OLIVIA. How-do-you-do, Mr. Pim? I can't get up, but do come and sit down. (Pim shakes hands with Olivia.) My husband will be here in a minute.

OLIVIA. You'll stay to lunch, of course, Mr. Pim?

DINAH. Oh, do!

PIM. It's very kind of you, Mrs. Marden, but—

DINAH. Oh, you simply must, Mr. Pim. You haven't told us half enough about yourself yet. I want to hear all about your early life.

OLIVIA. Dinah!

(Dinah sits at piano and plays happy music.)

PIM. Oh, we are almost, I might say, old friends, Mrs. Marden.

DINAH. Of course we are. He knows Brian, too. There's more in Mr. Pim than you think. You will stay to lunch, won't you?

PIM. It's very kind of you to ask me, Mrs. Marden, but I am lunching with the Trevors.

OLIVIA. Oh, well, you must come to lunch another day.

PIM. Oh, thank you, thank you.

DINAH. The reason why we like Mr. Pim so much is that he was the first person to congratulate us. We feel that he is going to have a great influence on our lives.

PIM. (to Olivia). I, so to speak, stumbled on the engagement this morning, and–er–

OLIVIA. I see. (to Dinah and Brian) Run along now, you must go and tidy yourselves up.

(Dinah curtsies and takes Brian’s arm and they walk toward exit.)

DINAH. Au revoir, Mr. Pim. (Dramatically.) We–shall–meet–again!

(Pim, laughing heartily, rises and bows.)

OLIVIA. You must forgive them, Mr. Pim. Naturally they're rather excited just now.

PIM. Oh, naturally, naturally!

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!

(George enters.)

GEORGE. Ah, you must be Mr. Pim. Sorry to have kept you waiting before. (Shaking hands.) How are you? How are you?

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

GEORGE. Not at all. Very glad to meet you now.

OLIVIA. Shall I be in your way at all?

PIM. Oh, no, no, please don't. (to George, handing him the letter) It's only just a question of a letter.

GEORGE. Ah, yes, I see. (Reading letter.) Fanshawe will put you in the way of seeing all that you want to see. (Crosses to table, sits.) He's a very old friend of mine. I’ll send you with a response. (Taking a sheet of notepaper and turning in chair to Pim.) You'll stay to lunch, of course?

PIM. It's very kind of you, but I'm lunching with the Trevors. (Sits on settee and puts down his hat and gloves.)

GEORGE. Ah, well, they'll look after you all right. Good chap, Trevor.

PIM. Oh, very good ... very good. (To Olivia.) You see, Mrs. Marden, I have only recently arrived from Australia–(Olivia stops in her sewing and George looks up)–after travelling about the world for some years, and I'm rather out of touch with my–er–fellow workers in London.

OLIVIA. I see! You've been in Australia, Mr. Pim?

PIM. Oh, yes, I—

GEORGE (after a loud cough). Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Pim. I shan't be a moment.

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?

PIM. Oh, yes, I was——

GEORGE (coughing). 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 a few years ago.

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

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

PIM. True, 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 recognized each other. (George rises.)

OLIVIA. Really?

PIM. He was travelling steerage; we didn't meet again on board, and as it happened at Marseilles, this poor fellow–er–now what was his name? A very unusual one. Began with a–a T, I think.

OLIVIA (with suppressed feeling). Yes, Mr. Pim, yes? (She puts out a hand to George.)

PIM (triumphantly). I've got it! Telworthy!

OLIVIA (draws back in settee, overcome). Telworthy!

GEORGE. Good God!

PIM (a little surprised at the success of his story). An unusual name, is it not? Not a name you could forget when once you had heard it.

OLIVIA (with feeling, gazing into space with hands clenched). No, it is not a name you could forget when once you had heard it.

GEORGE (hastily coming over to Pim). Quite so, Mr. Pim, a most remarkable name, a most odd story altogether. Well, well, here's your letter– (Pim rises and takes the letter)–and if you're sure you won't stay to lunch—

PIM. No, thank you. You see, I'm lunching with—

GEORGE. With the Trevors, yes. I remember you told me. (Taking his arm and hurrying him up.) I'll just see you on your way....

OLIVIA (holding out her hand, but not looking at him). Good-bye, Mr. Pim.

PIM (shaking hands with Olivia). Good-bye, good-bye!

GEORGE (taking him by the arm towards the exit). This way, this way.

PIM. Thank you, thank you. (exits)

GEORGE. Good God! Telworthy! Is it possible?

OLIVIA. I don’t know, but we can’t think about this now. We have to get lunch ready for Lady Marden!

Quick Curtain.

Act II

An hour later. Lunch is over. Lady Marden and company are in living room.

LADYMARDEN (to Olivia).The lunch was acceptable, Olivia.Thank you.

OLIVIA. You’re welcome.

DINAH (to Brian). I know Aunt Julia likes a little music.

(Dinah crosses to piano and begins to play. Brian crosses, laughing at her. George and Lady Marden are annoyed with Dinah's playing, and tell her to stop, and she does so. Olivia pours milk into Dinah's cup and Brian passes it to her; she drinks and then commences to play again and is stopped by looks from Lady Marden and George.)

LADY MARDEN (to Dinah). No! No! Don't do it!

OLIVIA. Your aunt does not like it, dear. (Dinah stops playing.)

LADY MARDEN. No, I do not.

OLIVIA. Your Aunt Julia had wanted to see the pigs, dear. I wish you'd take her down. I'm rather tired, and your uncle has some business to attend to. (George sits up straight in chair.)

LADY MARDEN. I've always said that you don't take enough exercise, Olivia.

BRIAN. May I come, too, Lady Marden?

LADY MARDEN (coming down centre to Brian). Well, a little exercise wouldn't do you any harm, Mr. Strange. You're an artist, ain't you?

BRIAN. Well, I try to paint.

DINAH (rises). He sold a picture last March for—

GEORGE. Yes, yes, never mind that now.

LADY MARDEN. Yes, unhealthy life. (Going toward exit, turns to Dinah and Brian.) Well, come along. (She strides out, followed by Dinah and Brian, who upset George's papers on the table as they go. Olivia takes the curtains and workbox from cabinet.)

GEORGE (looking up and seeing Olivia). Really, Olivia, we've got something more important, more vital to us than curtains, to discuss, now that we are alone at last.

OLIVIA. I wasn't going to discuss them, dear. (Sits.)

GEORGE. Of course, I'm always glad to see Aunt Julia in my house, but I wish she hadn't chosen this day of all days to come to lunch.

OLIVIA. It wasn't Aunt Julia's fault. It was really Mr. Pim who chose the wrong day.

GEORGE (fiercely and rising). Good heavens, is it true?

OLIVIA. About Jacob Telworthy?

GEORGE. You told me he was dead. You always said that he was dead.

OLIVIA. Well, I always thought that he was dead. He was as dead as anybody could be. All the papers said he was dead.

GEORGE (scornfully). The papers!

OLIVIA (as if this would settle it for George). The Times said he was dead. There was a paragraph about him. Apparently even his death was fraudulent.

GEORGE . Yes, yes, I'm not blaming you, Olivia, but what are we going to do, that's the question, what are we going to do? My God, it's horrible! You've never been married to me at all! You don't seem to understand.

OLIVIA. It is a little difficult to realize. You see, it doesn't seem to have made any difference to our happiness.

GEORGE. No, that's what's so terrible. (Olivia looks up surprised.) I mean–well, of course, we were quite innocent in the matter. But, at the same time, –we had no right to–to be happy.

OLIVIA. Would you rather we had been miserable?

GEORGE. You're Telworthy's wife, that's what you don't seem to understand. You're Telworthy's wife. You–er–forgive me, Olivia, but it's the horrible truth–you committed bigamy when you married me. (In horror) Bigamy!

OLIVIA. It is an ugly word, isn't it?

GEORGE (rising with gesture of despair). Well, what are we going to do?

OLIVIA. You sent Mr. Pim away so quickly. He might have told us things. Telworthy's plans. Where he is now. You hurried him away so quickly.

GEORGE. I've sent a note round to ask him to come back. My one idea at the moment was to get him out of the house–to hush things up.

OLIVIA. You can't hush up two husbands.

GEORGE (in despair). You can't. (Sits) Everybody will know. Everybody!

OLIVIA. Jacob Telworthy may be alive, but I am not his wife. I ceased to be his wife when I became yours.

GEORGE. You never were my wife. (Annoyed) Legally, we have been living in–living in–well, the point is, how does the Law stand? I imagine that Telworthy could get a–a divorce....

OLIVIA. A divorce?

GEORGE. I–I imagine so.

OLIVIA. But then we could really get married, and we shouldn't be living in–living in–whatever we were living in before.

GEORGE. I can't understand you, Olivia. You talk about it so calmly, as if there was nothing wrong in our having lived together for years without having been married.

OLIVIA (placing her hands on table). What seems wrong to me is that I lived for five years with a bad man whom I hated. What seems right to me is that I lived for five years with a good man whom I love.

GEORGE (taking and patting her hands affectionately). Yes, yes, my dear, I know. (Drops her hands) But right and wrong don't settle themselves as easily as that. We've been living together when you were Telworthy's wife. That's wrong.

OLIVIA. So what you feel is that Telworthy has the greater claim? You are prepared to–make way for him?

GEORGE. Both the Church and the Law would say that I had no claim at all, I'm afraid. I–I suppose I haven't.

OLIVIA. I see. (She looks at him curiously.) Thank you for making it so clear, George.

GEORGE. Of course, whether or not you go back to–er–Telworthy is another matter altogether. That would naturally be for you to decide.

OLIVIA (cheerfully). For me and Jacko to decide.

GEORGE. Er–Jacko?

OLIVIA. I used to call my first husband–I mean my only husband–Jacko. I didn't like the name ofJacob, and Jacko seemed to suit him somehow.(Enjoying the joke.) He had very long arms. (George is very annoyed.) Poor Jacko.

GEORGE (annoyed).You don'tseem to realize that thisis not a joke, Olivia.

OLIVIA (still amused). It may not be a joke, but it is funny, isn't it?

GEORGE. I must say I don't see anything funny in a tragedy that has wrecked two lives.

OLIVIA. Two? Oh, but Jacko's life isn't wrecked. It has just been miraculously restored to him. And a wife, too. There's nothing tragic for Jacko in it.

GEORGE (stiffly). I was referring to our two lives–yours and mine.

OLIVIA. Yours, George? Your life isn't wrecked. The Court will absolve you of all blame; your friends will sympathize with you, and tell you that I was a designing woman who deliberately took you in; your Aunt Julia–

GEORGE (overwrought). Stop it! (Crossing over to her.) Do you think I want my home broken up like this?

OLIVIA. But you want to send me away,

GEORGE. You don't seem to understand that I'm not sending you away. You simply aren't mine to keep.

OLIVIA. Whose am I?

GEORGE (dubiously). Your husband's. Telworthy's.

OLIVIA (gently). If I belong to anybody but myself, I think I belong to you.

GEORGE. Not in the eyes of the Law. Not in the eyes of the Church. (Olivia works in silence. Then she shakes out her curtains.)

OLIVIA (looking at them). I do hope Jacko will like these.

GEORGE (turning and seeing curtains). What! You—(Going up to her quickly and taking her by the hands raises her from the settee.) Olivia, Olivia, have you no heart?

OLIVIA. Ought you to talk like that to another man's wife?

GEORGE. Confound it, is this just a joke to you?

OLIVIA. One wants to do what is right.

GEORGE (miserably and turning in his chair to her). Yes, one must do what is right.

OLIVIA. Of course. It's only that we don't quite agree as to what is right and what is wrong.

GEORGE. It isn't a question of agreeing. Right is right, and wrong is wrong, all the world over.

OLIVIA (with a sad little smile). But more particularly in Buckinghamshire, I think.

GEORGE (turning round, seeing Dinah coming). H'sh! Dinah! (Loudly for Dinah's benefit.) Ah, Dinah, where's Aunt Julia?

DINAH (coming in). We've seen the pigs, and now she's discussing the Art of Landseer with Brian. I just came to ask–

OLIVIA. Dinah, dear, bring Aunt Julia here. And Brian too. We have things we want to talk about with you all.

DINAH. Right-o! (exits)

GEORGE (outraged). Olivia!

OLIVIA. Dinah will have to know. I'm very fond of her, George. You can't send me away without telling Dinah. And Brian is my friend. (Moving to cabinet, puts curtains and work-box on top of cabinet.)

GEORGE (forgetting). I should have thought that your husband–

OLIVIA (coming to settee). Yes, but we don't know where Jacko is.

GEORGE. I was not referring to–er–Telworthy. (Sits with his face in his hands at table. Olivia is about to speak to him as Lady Marden, Dinah and Brian enter.)

OLIVIA (after a pause). George and I have had some rather bad news, Aunt Julia. We wanted your advice. Where will you sit?

LADY MARDEN. Thank you, Olivia. I can sit down by myself. (Sits)

OLIVIA (to Dinah). You sit there, my darling. (Dinah sits in armchair. There is a good pause. All are looking very uncomfortable.)

LADY MARDEN. Well, what is it? (Another pause. All are still looking very uncomfortable.)

OLIVIA. We've just heard that my first husband is still alive.

DINAH. Telworthy!

BRIAN. Good Lord!

LADY MARDEN. George!

DINAH (excitedly). And only this morning I was saying that nothing ever happened in this house! (Rising from seat and sitting next to Olivia and remorsefully to her.) Darling, I don't mean that. Darling one!

LADY MARDEN. What does this mean, George? I leave you for ten minutes–barely ten minutes–to go and look at the pigs, and when I come back you tell me that Olivia is a bigamist.

BRIAN (indignantly advancing towards Lady Marden). I say—

OLIVIA (restraining him). H'sh!

LADY MARDEN. Well, George?

GEORGE (rising and coming down to Lady Marden). I'm afraid it's true, Aunt Julia.

LADY MARDEN. What was his name—Tel–something—

OLIVIA. Jacob Telworthy.

LADY MARDEN (in amazement). So he's alive still?

OLIVIA. Apparently. There seems to be no doubt about it.

LADY MARDEN. Didn't you see him die? I should always want to see my husband die before I married again. Not that I approve of second marriages, anyhow. I told you so at the time, George.

OLIVIA. And me, Aunt Julia.

LADY MARDEN. Did I? Well, I generally say what I think.

OLIVIA (to George). You wanted to ask Aunt Julia what was the right thing to do.

BRIAN (crossing and bursting out). Good Heavens, what is there to do except the one and only thing? (They all look at him and he becomes embarrassed and backs up stage a little.) I'm sorry. You don't want me to—

OLIVIA. I do, Brian.

LADY MARDEN. Well, go on, Mr. Strange. What would you do in George's position?

BRIAN. Do? Say to the woman I loved, "You're mine (bangs table with his fist), and let this other damned fellow come and take you from me if he can!" And he couldn't–how could he?–not if the woman chose me.(Lady Marden gazes at Brian in amazement, George in anger. Olivia presses his hand gratefully. He has said what she has been waiting–oh, so eagerly– for George to say. Dinah rises and up to Brian and takes his arm.)

DINAH (adoringly). Oh, Brian! (In a loud whisper.) It is me, isn't it, and not Olivia?

BRIAN. You baby, of course!

DINAH.

LADY MARDEN. I'm afraid, Mr. Strange (Dinah with an exclamation of annoyance), your morals are as peculiar as your views on Art.

BRIAN. This is not a question of morals or of art, it's a question of love.

DINAH. Hear, hear!

LADY MARDEN (to George). Isn't it that girl's bed-time yet?

OLIVIA (to Dinah and taking her hand). We'll let her sit up a little longer if she's good.

DINAH. I will be good, Olivia (aggressively to Lady Marden), only I thought anybody, however important a debate was, was allowed to say "Hear, hear!"

LADY MARDEN. The marriage must be annulled–is that the word, George?

GEORGE. I presume so.

BRIAN. And when the marriage has been annulled, what then?

LADY MARDEN. Presumably Olivia will return to her husband.

BRIAN (bitterly to Lady Marden). And that's morality!

LADY MARDEN (calmly). You suggest that George and Olivia should go on living together, although they have never been legally married. Bless the man, what do you think the County would say?

BRIAN (scornfully). Does it matter?

DINAH. Well, if you really want to know, the men would say, "Gad, she's a fine woman; I don't wonder he sticks to her!” and the women would say, "I can't think what he sees in her to stick to her like that," and they'd both say, "After all, he may be a damn fool, but you can't deny he's a sportsman."

LADY MARDEN (very indignant). I can't think what young people are coming to nowadays.

OLIVIA. (to Dinah) I think, dear, you and Brian had better go.

DINAH (getting up). We will go. (Crossing to exit, looking cheekily into George's face.) But I'm just going to say one thing, Uncle George. Brian and I are going to marry each other, and when we are married we'll stick to each other, however many of our dead husbands and wives turn up! Come on, Brian. (Exits, followed by Brian.)

GEORGE. Upon my word, this is a pleasant discussion.

OLIVIA. I think the discussion is over, George.It is only a question of where I shall go, while you are bringing your–what sort of suit did you call it?

LADY MARDEN (to George). Nullity suit. I suppose that is the best thing?

GEORGE (his apology). If there were any other way! Olivia, what can I do? It is the only way, isn't it? (Lady Marden turns and listens.) I want to do what's right, what's best. (Olivia holds out her hands lovingly towards him.) Oh, Olivia, Olivia, you do understand, don't you? (They have both forgotten Lady Marden. Olivia has never taken her eyes off him as he makes his last at tempt to convince himself.)

OLIVIA (almost tenderly). So very, very well, George. Oh, I understand just what you are feeling. And oh, I do so wish that you could–(with a little sigh)–but then it wouldn't be George, not the George I married–(with a rueful little laugh)–or didn't quite marry.

LADY MARDEN. I must say, I think you are both talking a little wildly.

OLIVIA (repeating it, oh, so tenderly). Or didn't–quite–marry. (She looks at him with all her heart in her eyes. She is giving him his last chance to say "Damn Telworthy; you're mine!" He struggles desperately with himself, turns to Olivia.)

GEORGE. Olivia! Olivia! My darling! (She rises. He crosses to her and takes her in his arms.)

(We hear a knock at the door. Everyone freezes. Mr. Pim knocks again and lets himself in.)

PIM. Oh, excuse me again. Am I interrupting?

GEORGE. (emerging from the embrace with an effort) Ah, Mr. Pim! Very good of you to have come.

LADY MARDEN. Who on earth is Mr. Pim?

OLIVIA. Please, come in, Mr. Pim. (to Lady Marden) Julia, it was Mr. Pim who told us about my husband. He came across with him in the boat, and recognized him as the Telworthy he knew in Australia.

GEORGE. The fact is–er–(It is too much for him; he looks despairingly at Olivia.)

OLIVIA. The fact is, Mr. Pim, you gave us rather a surprise this morning, and before we had time to realize what it all meant, you had gone.

PIM. A surprise, Mrs. Marden? Dear me, not an unpleasant one, I hope?

OLIVIA. Well, rather a–surprising one. (Lady Marden coughs.)

PIM (after a desperate effort to keep up with the conversation). Oh!... I–er–I'm afraid I am rather at sea.

OLIVIA. Mr. Pim, you told us this morning of a man whom you had met on the boat, a man who had come down in the world, whom you had known in Sydney. A man called Telworthy.

PIM__(relieved).Ah, yes, yes, of course.(ToOlivia.)__I did sayTelworthy, didn'tI?

GEORGE. Just a moment, Mr. Pim. You're quite sure that his name was Telworthy?

PIM (to George). Telworthy–Telworthy–didn't I say Telworthy? Yes, that was it–Telworthy. Poor fellow!

OLIVIA. I'm going to be perfectly frank with you, Mr. Pim. I feel quite sure that I can trust you. This man Telworthy whom you met is my husband.

PIM. Your husband! (He looks in mild surprise at George.) Your–er—

OLIVIA. My first husband. His death was announced six years ago. I had left him some years before that, but there seems no doubt from your story that he's still alive. His record–the country he comes from–above all, the very unusual name–Telworthy.

PIM. Telworthy–yes–certainly a most peculiar name. Your first husband? Dear me! Dear me!

OLIVIA (pulling his arm, trying to attract his attention). Well, since he is my husband, we naturally want to know something about him. Where is he now, for instance?

PIM (surprised and turning to Olivia). Where is he now? But surely I told you? I told you what happened at Marseilles?

GEORGE. At Marseilles?

PIM (to George). Yes, yes, poor fellow, it was most unfortunate.

GEORGE (thumping the desk). Where is he now, that's what we want to know? (Mr. Pim turns to him with a start.)

OLIVIA. Please, Mr. Pim!

PIM (to Olivia). Where is he now? But–but didn't I tell you of the curious fatality at Marseilles–poor fellow–the fish-bone?

ALL. Fish-bone?

PIM. Yes, yes, a herring, I understand.

OLIVIA (becoming hysterical). Do you mean he's dead?

PIM. Dead–of course he's dead. He's been dead—

OLIVIA (laughing hysterically). Oh, Mr. Pim, you–oh, what a husband to have–oh, I—(But that is all she can say for the moment.)

LADY MARDEN. Pull yourself together, Olivia. (To Pim.) So he really is dead this time?

PIM. Oh, undoubtedly, undoubtedly. A fish-bone lodged in his throat.

GEORGE. Dead! Dead!

PIM (rising and turning to Olivia, alarmed at her hysteria). Oh, but, Mrs. Marden!

OLIVIA. I think you must excuse me, Mr. Pim. But a herring! There's something about a herring— (George comes quickly to her, very concerned. Pim is also very concerned. Turning to George.) Oh, George! (Shaking her head in a weak state of laughter, and exits.)

PIM. Oh dear! Oh dear! I'm afraid I broke the news rather hastily. The double shock of losing one husband and being restored to another–

LADY MARDEN (coming to George). A dispensation of Providence, George. One can regard it in no other light.

GEORGE (coming to Pim). Yes! Yes! Well, I'm much obliged to you, Mr. Pim, for having come down to us this afternoon, and you understand that your news, though tardy, has been very welcome. (shaking hands– anxious to get rid of him). Well, good-bye, and again our thanks.

PIM. Not at all. I shouldn't have broken the news so hastily. (Catches sight of Lady Marden and with a profound bow.) Good-bye, Lady Marden.

LADY MARDEN (equally profound). Good-bye, Mr. Pim.

PIM. I'm afraid I broke the news too hastily. (Goes to table and takes up George's cap in mistake for his hat and is moving to exit when George, noting this, picks up Pim's hat and crosses with it to Pim.)

GEORGE. Mr. Pim, excuse me, but I think this is yours.

PIM (he takes it and looks at it closely, comparing it with the cap). This isn't my hat at all. (Puts George's cap down on table again.) No, that isn't my hat. (Takes his own hat from George.) This is my hat. Good-bye! (Shakes hands.) Thank you so much.

GEORGE (turning to Lady Marden and with a sigh of thankfulness). Well, this is wonderful news, Aunt Julia.

LADY MARDEN. Most providential. Well, I must be getting along now, George. Say good-bye to Olivia for me.

GEORGE. Good-bye, Aunt Julia.

LADY MARDEN. And get Olivia out more, George. I don't like these hysterics. (Banging table.) You want to be firmer with her.

GEORGE. Yes! Yes! Good-bye.

LADY MARDEN. Good-bye. (exits)

GEORGE. Dead! Dead! (Olivia enters from staircase, watching him and coming quietly. George approaching her enthusiastically). Olivia! Olivia! (Is about to embrace her, but she restrains him.)

OLIVIA (drawing herself up). Mrs. Telworthy!

GEORGE (taken aback). What? Olivia! I–I don't understand.

OLIVIA. Well, darling, if my husband only died at Marseilles a few days ago—

GEORGE (scratching his head). Yes, I see–I see. Well, we can soon put that right. A registry office in London. Better go up this afternoon. We can't do these things too quickly–we can stay at a hotel.

OLIVIA (pointedly). You and Mrs. Telworthy! (Moves slowly round back of settee.)

GEORGE. Yes–yes, I know, but why do you keep saying it? What's the matter with you? You're so strange today. You're not like the Olivia I know.

OLIVIA (sits). Perhaps you don't know me so very well, after all.

GEORGE (sitting–affectionately next to her). Oh, that's nonsense. You're just myOlivia.Nowwe cangetmarriedagainquietlyandnobodywillbe anytheworse.

OLIVIA. Well, if you want to marry me tomorrow, 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?

GEORGE (ratherfancying himself as an actor, he adopts what he considers to be an appropriate attitude). Er–ah, Mrs. Telworthy, I have long admired you in silence, and the time has now come to put my admiration into words (but apparently he finds a difficulty)–er–er–

OLIVIA. I don't want to interrupt, but oughtn't you to be on your knees? It is–usual, I believe.

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

OLIVIA (meekly–and resuming her coyness). 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 (good-humouredly and coming down to back of settee to her). Well, give me a kiss while you're thinking.

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

GEORGE (laughing uneasily, and sitting and leaning over on table). Oh, we needn't take it as seriously as all that.

OLIVIA. But a woman must take a proposal seriously.

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

OLIVIA. Well, what I mean is that the whole question–(with a sly look at George)–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 me to marry you tomorrow.

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

OLIVIA. All the same, one must ask oneself questions. I have to ask myself whether you can afford to support a wife.

GEORGE. You know perfectly well that I can afford to support a wife as my wife should be supported.

OLIVIA. Oh, I am glad. Then your income–you are not really worried about that at all?

GEORGE (stiffly). You know perfectly well what my income is. I see no reason for anxiety, in the future.

OLIVIA. Ah, very well, then we needn't think about it any more.

GEORGE. You know I can't make out what you're up to. Don't you want to get married–to–er–legalize this extraordinary situation in which we are placed?

OLIVIA. I must consider the whole question very carefully. I can't just jump at the very first offer I have had since my husband died. (Rising)

GEORGE. Oh, so I'm under consideration, eh?

OLIVIA. Every suitor is.

GEORGE. Oh, very well, go on! Go on!

OLIVIA. Well then, there's your niece. You have a niece living with you. Of course Dinah is a delightful girl, but one doesn't like marrying into a household where there's another grown-up woman. But perhaps she will be getting married herself soon.

GEORGE. I see no prospect of it.

OLIVIA. It would make it so much easier, George, if she did.

GEORGE (rising). Is this a threat, Olivia? (Crossing up to Olivia.) Are you telling me that if I do not allow young Strange to marry Dinah, you will not marry me?

OLIVIA. A threat? Oh, no, George. But I was just wondering if you love me as much as Brian loves Dinah. You do love me?

GEORGE (from his heart). Of course I do.

OLIVIA. I wonder. When two people of our age think of getting married, one wants to be quite sure that there is real community of ideas between them. Supposing that after we have been married some years we found ourselves getting estranged from each other upon such questions as Dinah's future, or the comparatively trivial matter like the right colour for a curtain, or the advice to be given to a friend who had innocently contracted a bigamous marriage. Think how bitterly we should regret our hasty plunge into a matrimony which was no true partnership, whether of tastes or ideas or even of consciences. (With a sigh.) Ah me!

GEORGE (turning to her quickly). Olivia, do you remember what you said this morning?

OLIVIA. I?... Well, and what did I say this morning?

GEORGE. You said that it was quite enough that Strange was a gentleman and in love with Dinah for me to let them marry each other.

OLIVIA. Oh! But is that enough, George?

GEORGE (triumphantly). Well, you said so.

OLIVIA (meekly). Well, George, if you think so too, I'm quite willing to risk it. (rising with a skip and going to him and putting her hands on his shoulders). My darling one! How jolly! Then we can have a double wedding.

GEORGE (astonished). A double one!

OLIVIA. Yes, you and me, Brian and Dinah.

GEORGE (firmly, and taking her hands from his shoulders). Now look here, Olivia, understand once and for all, I am not to be blackmailed into giving my consent to Dinah's engagement. Neither blackmailed nor tricked. Our marriage has nothing whatever to do with Dinah's.

OLIVIA. No, dear, I quite understand. They may take place about the same time, but they have nothing whatever to do with each other.

GEORGE. I see no prospect of Dinah's marriage taking place for many years.

OLIVIA. No, dear, that was what I said.

GEORGE (not understanding for the moment). You said—? I see. (Turning and facing her.) Now look here, Olivia, let us have this perfectly clear. You apparently insist on treating my–er–proposal as serious.

OLIVIA (mock surprise). But isn't it? Have you been trifling with me?

GEORGE (angrily). I've had enough of this. (Coming to table and speaking across.) Do you mean all this nonsense?

OLIVIA. Well, what I do mean is, that I am in no hurry to go up to London and get married. I love the country just now, and–(with a sigh)– after this morning, I'm–rather tired of husbands.

GEORGE (in a rage). I've never heard so much–damned (bangs table) ... nonsense in my life. I will leave you to come back to your senses. (Exits)

(Olivia rises, watching George off. She kisses her hands to him, then turning sees curtains and work-box and extending her arms in ecstasy goes to cabinet, takes them up. Olivia sits on settee with curtains in her lap and places the work-box next to her, and as she does so Mr. Pim enters and coming to table taps it with his umbrella to attract Olivia's attention. She turns and sees him. He looks nervously round, fearing the return of George.)

PIM (in a whisper). Er–may I come in, Mrs. Marden?

OLIVIA (in surprise). Mr. Pim!

PIM (anxiously and again looking round). Mr. Marden is–er–not here?

OLIVIA (getting up). No! Do you want to see him? I will—

PIM (another look round). No, no, no! Not for the world. There is no immediate danger of his returning, Mrs. Marden?

OLIVIA (surprised). No, I don't think so, Mr. Pim. (Puts down curtains). But... what is it? You—

PIM (still rather nervous and throwing up his arms in distress). Mr. Marden will be so angry with me, and very rightly. Oh, I blame myself. I blame myself entirely. I don't know how I can have been so stupid. (Sits on stool, very concerned).

OLIVIA.What isit,Mr. Pim?My first husband hasn't come to life again, has he?

PIM. No! No! No! (Looking round and speaking very mysteriously across table.) The fact is–his name was Pelwittle.

OLIVIA (at a loss). Whose? My husband's?

PIM. Yes, yes. Henry Pelwittle, poor fellow.

OLIVIA. But my husband's name was Telworthy.

PIM. No! Oh dear, no! Pelwittle. (Firmly.) It came back to me suddenly just as I reached the gate–Henry Pelwittle, poor fellow.

OLIVIA. But really, Mr. Pim, I ought to know.

PIM. No! No! Pelwittle.

OLIVIA. But who is Pelwittle?

PIM (in surprise at her stupidity). The man I told you about, who met with the sad fatality at Marseilles. Henry Pelwittle.... (With hand on chin, thinking deeply.) Or was it Ernest? No! Henry Pelwittle, poor fellow.

OLIVIA (indignantly). But, Mr. Pim, you said his name was Telworthy. How could you?

PIM. Oh, I blame myself, I blame myself entirely.

OLIVIA. But how could you think of a name like Telworthy if it wasn't Telworthy?

PIM__(eagerly)__.Ah, ah, that isthe really interesting thing about thewholematter.

OLIVIA (reproachfully). Yes, Mr. Pim, all your visits here today have been very interesting.

PIM. Oh, very interesting, very interesting, You see, Mrs. Marden, when I made my first appearance here this morning I was received by–Miss Diana, who—

OLIVIA. Dinah!

PIM. I beg your pardon?

OLIVIA. Dinah. Her name is Dinah!

PIM (pauses). You're quite right. Dinah–oh yes. Miss Dinah, yes. She was in–er–rather a communicative mood, and I suppose by way of passing the time she mentioned that before your marriage–to Mr. Marden you had been a Mrs.–er—

OLIVIA. Telworthy.

PIM. Telworthy, yes, of course. She also mentioned Australia. Now by some curious process of the brain, when I was trying to recollect the name of the poor fellow on the boat, whom you will remember I had also met in Australia, a name equally peculiar–this fact I say—

OLIVIA (seeing that the sentence is rapidly going to pieces). Yes, I quite understand.

PIM. And you will tell your husband–you'll break the news to him?

OLIVIA (amazed). Oh, yes! I'll break the news to him.

PIM (rising and holding out his hand). Well then, I think before he comes back I will say good-bye and–er—

OLIVIA (rising). Just a moment, Mr. Pim. Let us have it quite clear this time. You never knew my husband Jacob Telworthy?

PIM. No!

OLIVIA. You never met him in Australia?

PIM. No!

OLIVIA. You never saw him on the boat?

PIM. No!

OLIVIA. And nothing whatever happened to him at Marseilles?

PIM. No!

OLIVIA. Is that right?

PIM (hesitating and thinking it out very deeply). I think so.

OLIVIA. Very well, then, since his death was announced in Australia six years ago, he is presumably still dead?

PIM. Undoubtedly.

OLIVIA (holding out her hand with a charming smile). Then good-bye, Mr. Pim, and thank you so much for–for all your trouble. (Going to exit Pim meets Dinah, Dinah is followed by Brian).

DINAH. Hullo, there's Mr. Pim. (to Brian)

PIM (nervously looking at the door in case Mr. Marden should come in). Yes, yes I—er—

DINAH. Oh, Mr. Pim, you mustn't run away without even saying how do-you-do! Are you staying to tea?

PIM (looking off at staircase nervously). I'm afraid I—

OLIVIA. Mr. Pim has to hurry away, Dinah. You mustn't keep him.

DINAH. Well, but you'll come back again?

PIM. I fear that I am only a passer-by, Miss—er—Dinah.

OLIVIA. Why don’t you show Mr. Pim out, Dinah?

PIM (gratefully to Olivia). Thank you. (With another nervous look round.) If you would be so kind, Miss Dinah—

DINAH. (taking his arm). Come along then, Mr. Pim.

BRIAN. I'll catch you up.

DINAH. I want to hear all about your first wife.

PIM. Oh, but I haven't got a first wife.

DINAH. You haven't really told me anything yet. (They exit. Olivia resumes her work, and Brian crosses to table.)

BRIAN. (awkwardly). I just wanted to say, if you don't think it cheek, that I'm—I'm on your side, if I may be and if I can help you at all, I shall be very proud of being allowed to.

OLIVIA. (looking up at him and taking his hand). Brian, you dear, that's sweet of you. But it's quite all right now, you know..

BRIAN What?

OLIVIA. Yes, that's what Mr. Pim came back to say. He'd made a mistake about the name—

BRIAN (rising). Good Lord!

OLIVIA (smiling). George is the only husband I have.

BRIAN (surprised). What? You mean that the whole thing that Pim—

OLIVIA (repeating). The whole thing.

BRIAN. Silly ass!

OLIVIA (kindly). Oh, no, no, I'm sure he didn't mean to be. (After a pause.) Brian, do you know anything about the law?

BRIAN. The law? I'm afraid not. I hate the law. Why?

OLIVIA. Well, I was just wondering. Suppose that George and I had accidentally married each other a second time thinking that the first marriage wasn't quite right, and then we found the first marriage was all right–well—

BRIAN. What on earth do you mean?

OLIVIA. Well, what I mean is that there's nothing wrong in marrying the same person twice?

BRIAN (rising, thinking it out). Oh, no. A hundred times if you like, I should think.

OLIVIA. Oh!

BRIAN. Well, once will be enough for Dinah and me, if you can work it. (Anxiously.) D'you think there's any chance, Olivia?

OLIVIA (smiling). Every chance, dear.

BRIAN. I say, do you really? Have you squared him? I mean has he— (George is heard humming the tune of "Pop goes the weasel" offstage.)

OLIVIA. You go and catch them up now. We'll talk about it later on.

BRIAN. Bless you. Right-o! (Exits)

(George turns to Olivia, who is absorbed in her curtain. He walks up and down the room, fidgeting with things, waiting for her to speak. As she says nothing, George continues to hope that he is appearing casual and unconcerned–he stands looking at Olivia's work for a moment.)

GEORGE. Nearly finished 'em?

OLIVIA. Very nearly. (Smiling to herself.)

GEORGE. Where are you thinking of hanging 'em?

OLIVIA (as if really wondering). I don't quite know.... I had thought of this room, but–I'm not quite sure.

GEORGE. Best way is to hang 'em up and see how you like 'em. Always take 'em down again.

OLIVIA. Yes.... I think we might try that–(looking round at settee and carpets, etc.)–the only thing is–(She hesitates.)

GEORGE. What?

OLIVIA. Well, the carpets and the chair-covers and the cushions and things–

GEORGE. Well, what about 'em?

OLIVIA. Well, if we had new curtains–

GEORGE. You'd want a new carpet, eh?

OLIVIA (doubtfully). Well, new chair-covers, anyhow.

GEORGE. H'm!... Well, why not?

OLIVIA (thoughtfully). I suppose it would mean that I should have to go up to London to choose them. You know, that's rather a nuisance.

GEORGE (extremely casual and moving towards Olivia). Oh, I don't know. We might go up together one day. (There is another silence. George is wondering whether to come to closer quarters with the great question.)

OLIVIA. Oh, by the way, George–

GEORGE. Yes?

OLIVIA (innocently). I told Brian, and of course he'll tell Dinah, that Mr. Pim had made a mistake about the name.

GEORGE (astonished, moving towards Olivia). Mistake about the name?

OLIVIA. Yes–I told Brian that the whole thing was a mistake, I thought that was the simplest way.

GEORGE. Olivia–(crossing)–then you mean that Brian and Dinah think that–that we have been married all the time?

OLIVIA. Yes.

GEORGE (coming closer to her). Olivia, does that mean that you are thinking of marrying me?

OLIVIA. Do you want me to very much?

GEORGE. My darling, you know I do.

OLIVIA. We should have to keep it very quiet, George.

GEORGE. Well, of course–(sitting next to her)–nobody need know. And now that you've put Brian and Dinah off the scent, by telling them that– (he breaks off and says admiringly)–that was very clever of you, Olivia. I should never have thought of that.

OLIVIA (innocently). George–you don't think it was wrong, do you?

GEORGE (his verdict, taking her hands and patting them). An innocent deception... perfectly harmless.

OLIVIA. Yes, dear, that was what I thought about–about–(laughing to herself) what I was doing.

GEORGE. Then you will come up to London tomorrow? (Olivia nods.) And if we should see a carpet or anything else we want—

OLIVIA. Oh, George! (They embrace. Dinah and Brian enter.)

DINAH (seeing the embrace, surprised). Oo–I say! (George looks and feels rather a fool.)

GEORGE. Hallo! (Olivia sits, resumes sewing.)

DINAH. Well, I'm so happy now that Pim has relented about your first husband–(George catches Olivia's eye and smiles; she smiles back; but they are different smiles.)

GEORGE (the actor). Yes, yes, stupid fellow, Mr. Pim.

BRIAN. Yes. Absolute idiot, I think!

DINAH. And now that George has relented about–(with a significant look at Brian)–my first husband—

GEORGE. Here, you get on much too quickly. (to Brian) So you want to marry my Dinah, eh?

BRIAN (with a smile). Well, I do rather, sir.

GEORGE (to Brian). Well, you'd better have a talk with me about it–er– (with a sly look at Olivia)–Brian.

BRIAN. Thank you very much, sir. (George gets up and Brian, imitating his walk, accompanies him.)

GEORGE. Well, come along then. (Brian looks at his watch.) I am going up to town after tea, so we'd better—

DINAH. I say, are you going to London?

GEORGE (with a sly look at Olivia). Yes, a little business.

DINAH (cheekily). Eh?

GEORGE. Never you mind, young woman. (To Brian.) Well, come along then. We'll stroll down and look at the pigs.

BRIAN. Right-o! (They are going off. when Olivia calls.)

OLIVIA. George, don't go too far away; I may want you.

GEORGE. All right! Give me a shout if you want me.

DINAH (watching them off). Brian and George always discuss me in front of the pigs. So tactless of them. I say, are you going to London, too, darling?

OLIVIA. Tomorrow—(Rising and shaking out curtains.)

DINAH. What are you going to do in London?

OLIVIA. Oh, shopping and–one or two little things.

DINAH. With George?

OLIVIA. Yes.

DINAH. I say, wasn't it lovely about Pim?

OLIVIA. Lovely?

DINAH. Yes, he told me all about it. Making such a hash of things, I mean.

OLIVIA (innocently). Did he make a hash of things?

DINAH. Well, I mean keeping on coming like that. And if you look at it all round–well, for all he had to say, he needn't have come at all.

OLIVIA. Well, I don't think I should put it quite like that, Dinah.

DINAH (referring to curtains). I say, aren't they jolly?

OLIVIA. I'm so glad everybody likes them. Tell George I'm ready, dear.

DINAH. I say, is he going to put them up for you?

OLIVIA. Well, I thought perhaps he could reach better.

DINAH. All right, I'll tell him. (calling off.) George!

GEORGE (from off). Coming!

DINAH (playfully bouncing to piano, imitating a fairy's footsteps). Slow music while the curtains go up. (Sits at piano and plays. George enters, followed by Brian.)

GEORGE (to Olivia). What is it, darling?

OLIVIA. I wish you'd help me to put up these curtains?

GEORGE. Of course, dear. I'd better get the library steps. (exits)

(Brian goes quickly to Olivia and gratefully kisses her hand, then comes down to Dinah and bows to her.)

BRIAN. Madam! I have the honour to inform you that hence-forward you are at liberty to regard me as your affianced husband.

DINAH (rising quickly and advancing). Darling!

BRIAN (waving her back). No! No! Stay there! (She retreats and sits at piano.) Go on playing. (Dinah goes on playing and he takes out a sketch book, sits on settee and sketches her.)

DINAH. What is it?

BRIAN. Portrait of Lady Strange.

(George enters with library steps, places them near window.)

OLIVIA (she hands him the curtains and rounds back, watching George). Are you ready, dear?

GEORGE (mounting the steps). Yes, quite ready.

OLIVIA. There! (The curtains become entangled and he nearly falls.) Oh, take care, dear!

GEORGE (again mounting steps). Oh, that's all right, dear. They're a little long. (The curtains become entangled round his head.)

(Mr. Pim enters mysteriously. Olivia is looking up at George. Pim touches her on the shoulder and with a start she turns to him. Dinah seeing him enter stops playing. Olivia, unwilling to attract George's attention, signals to Dinah to continue playing, and, she does so.)

PIM. Mrs. Marden! I had to come back–I've just remembered his name was Ernest Polwittle–not Henry! (Going off.) Not Henry!

(Dinah plays forte.)

Quick Curtain.

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