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. (Moving to L.) A registry office in London. Better go up this afternoon. We can't do these things too quickly–we can stay at an hotel.
Olivia (pointedly). You and Mrs. Telworthy! (Moves slowly round back of settee L.)
(George moves to centre.)
George (nonplussed). Oh–er–yes–yes–perhaps I'd better stay at my Club–yes! It will be a bit awkward at first. (With a sigh of relief.) However, nobody need know, and how much better than what we feared!
(Olivia comes down to below settee L.)
George (advancing to embrace her). Olivia! Olivia!
(She repulses him and he crosses to her L.)
Olivia. Mrs. Telworthy!