(Going up L. and off up L.)
(As he goes out by the windows, George comes in at the doors R. George stands R.C., and then 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, he begins to talk himself, but in an obviously unconcerned way. There is a pause after each answer of hers, before he gets out his next remark.)
George (casually). Good-looking fellow, Strange. What?
Olivia (equally casually). Brian, yes, isn't he? And such a nice boy.
George. Yes, yes! (Catching sight of curtain she is sewing. Hums the tune of "Pop goes the weasel"–crossing down R. to piano, plays a few notes of "Pop goes the weasel" with one finger.) Got fifty pounds for a picture the other day, didn't he? (Moving up stage a little.)
Olivia. Ah, yes! Of course he has only just begun——
George. The critics think well of him, (Slight pause.) What?
(Up C. by chair front of writing-table.)
Olivia. They all say he has genius. Oh, I don't think there's any doubt about it. (Pause.)
(George left of writing-table.)