GEORGE (realising that he is the one). Er—look here, Olivia, old girl, you've been a jolly good wife to me, and we don't often have rows, and if I've been rude to you about this—lost my temper a bit perhaps, what?—I'll say I'm sorry. May I have a kiss?
OLIVIA (holding up her face). George, darling! (He kisses her.) Do you love me?
GEORGE. You know I do, old girl.
OLIVIA. As much as Brian loves Dinah?
GEORGE (stiffly). I've said all I want to say about that. (He goes away from her.)
OLIVIA. Oh, but there must be lots you want to say—and perhaps don't like to. Do tell me, darling.
GEORGE. What it comes to is this. I consider that Dinah is too young to choose a husband for herself, and that Strange isn't the husband I should choose for her.
OLIVIA. You were calling him Brian yesterday.
GEORGE. Yesterday I regarded him as a boy, now he wants me to look upon him as a man.
OLIVIA. He's twenty-four.