GEORGE (_shouting_). But put these beastly things away.

OLIVIA (_rising and gathering up the curtains_). Very well, George.

(_Going up_ L. _she places the curtains on the cabinet_.)

GEORGE (_waits impatiently until she has put them away on top of
cabinet_). Ah! That's better.

(OLIVIA _comes to table_ L.C., _closes her workbox and then crosses down
to settee_ R.)

GEORGE (_rising and crossing down to_ OLIVIA _and placing arms lovingly
on her shoulder_). Now look here, Olivia, old girl, you've been a jolly
good wife to me--(_takes his arms from her shoulder_)--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, taking her hands from his shoulders_). I've said all I
want to say about that. (_He goes away from her to_ L.)

OLIVIA. Oh, but there must be lots you want to say and perhaps don't like
to. (_Sits on settee_ R.) Do tell me, darling.