OLIVIA (to GEORGE). YOU wanted to ask Aunt Julia what was the right thing to do.
BRIAN (bursting out). Good Heavens, what is there to do except the one and only thing? (They all look at him and he becomes embarrassed) 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, 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 (adoringly). Oh, Brian! (In a whisper) It is me, isn't it, and not Olivia?
BRIAN. You baby, of course!
LADY MARDEN. I'm afraid, Mr. Strange, your morals are as peculiar as your views on Art. If you had led a more healthy life—
BRIAN. This is not a question of morals or of art, it's a question of love.