have had since my husband died,
without considering the whole question very carefully.

GEORGE. So I'm under consideration, eh?

OLIVIA. Every suitor is.

GEORGE (sarcastically, as he thinks). Well, go on.

OLIVIA. Well, then, there's your niece. You have a niece who lives
with you. Of course Dinah is a delightful girl, but one doesn't like
marrying into a household in which there is another grown-up woman.
But perhaps she will be getting married herself soon?

GEORGE. I see no prospect of it.

OLIVIA. I think it would make it much easier if she did.

GEORGE. Is this a threat, Olivia? Are you telling me that if I do not
allow young Strange to marry Dinah, you will not marry me?

OLIVIA. A threat? Oh no, George.

GEORGE. Then what does it mean?

OLIVIA. I'm just wondering if you love me as much as Brian loves
Dinah. You _do_ love me?

GEORGE (from his heart). You know I do, old girl. (He comes to her.)

OLIVIA. You're not just attracted by my pretty face? . . . _Is_ it a
pretty face?

GEORGE. It's an adorable one. (He tries to kiss it, but she turns
away.)

OLIVIA. How can I be sure that it is not _only_ my face which makes
you think that you care for me? Love which rests upon a mere outward
attraction cannot lead to any lasting happiness--as one of our
thinkers has observed.

GEORGE. What's come over you, Olivia? I don't understand what you're
driving at. Why should you doubt my love?

OLIVIA. Ah!--Why?

GEORGE. You can't pretend that we haven't been happy together.
I've--I've been a good pal to you, eh? We--we suit each other, old
girl.

OLIVIA. Do we?

GEORGE. Of course we do.

OLIVIA. I wonder. When two people of our age think of getting married,
one wants to be very sure that there is real community of ideas
between them. Whether it is a comparatively trivial matter, like the
right colour for a curtain, or some very much more serious question of
conduct which arises, one wants to feel that there is some chance of
agreement between husband and wife.

GEORGE. We--we love each other, old girl.

OLIVIA. We do now, yes. But what shall we be like in five years' time?
Supposing that after we have been married five years, we found
ourselves estranged from each other upon such questions as Dinah's
future, or the decorations of the drawing-room, or even the advice to
give to a friend who had innocently contracted a bigamous marriage?
How bitterly we should regret then our hasty plunge into a mat