GEORGE. What are you doing?

OLIVIA. Making curtains--(_grunt of disapproval from_ GEORGE)--George.
Won't they be rather sweet? Oh, but I forgot--you don't like them.

GEORGE. No. I don't like them, and what is more, I don't mean to have
them in my house. As I told you yesterday, this is the house of a simple
country gentleman, and I don't want any of these new-fangled ideas in it.

OLIVIA. Is marrying for love a new-fangled idea?

GEORGE. We'll come to that directly. None of you women can keep to the
point. What I am saying now is that the house of my fathers and
forefathers is good enough for me.

OLIVIA. Do you know, George, I can hear one of your ancestors saying that
to his wife in their smelly old cave--(GEORGE _looks up annoyed at her
levity_)--when the new-fangled idea of building houses was first
suggested. "The Cave of my Forefathers is good enough for----"

GEORGE (_rising and coming to_ R. _of_ L.C. _table_). That's ridiculous.
Naturally we must have progress. But that's just the point. (_Indicating
the curtains_.) I don't call this sort of thing progress. It's--ah--
retrogression.

OLIVIA. Well, anyhow, it's pretty.

GEORGE. There I disagree with you. And I must say once more that I will
not have them hanging in my house. (_Going up_ R.C.)