DINAH (meekly). Yes, Aunt Olivia.
OLIVIA. Brian, you might take her outside for a walk. I expect you have plenty to talk about.
GEORGE. Now mind, Strange, no love-making. I put you on your honour about that.
BRIAN. I'll do my best to avoid it, sir.
DINAH (cheekily). May I take his arm if we go up a hill?
OLIVIA. I'm sure you'll know how to behave—both of you.
BRIAN. Come on, then, Dinah.
DINAH. Righto.
GEORGE (as they go). And if you do see any clouds, Strange, take a good look at them. (He chuckles to himself) Triangular clouds—I never heard of such nonsense. (He goes back to his chair at the writing-table) Futuristic rubbish. . . . Well, Olivia?
OLIVIA. Well, George?