LADY MARDEN. I don't remember anything of the sort in the Marden Family before, ever. GEORGE (_absently_). Lady Fanny. LADY MARDEN (_recollecting_). Yes, of course; but that was two hundred years ago. The standards were different then. (_Rising and going up_ C. _to_ R.) Besides, it wasn't quite the same, anyhow. GEORGE (_absently_). No, it wasn't quite the same. LADY MARDEN (_R. of writing-table_). No. We shall all feel it. Terribly. GEORGE (_his apology_). If there were any other way! Olivia, what _can_ I do? It _is_ the only way, isn't it? All that that fellow said--of course, it sounds very well--but as things are.... (_Crossing towards_ OLIVIA.) _Is_ there anything in marriage, or isn't there? You believe that there is, don't you? You aren't one of these Socialists. Well, then, _can_ we go on living together when you're another man's wife? It isn't only what people will say, but it _is_ wrong, isn't it?.... And supposing he doesn't divorce you, are we to go on living together, unmarried, for _ever_? (LADY MARDEN _turns and listens_.) Olivia, you seem to think that I'm just thinking of the publicity--what people will say. I'm not. I'm not. That comes in any way. But I want to do what's right, what's best. I don't mean what's best for us, what makes us happiest, I mean what's really best, what's rightest. What anybody else would do in my place. (OLIVIA _holds out her hands lovingly towards him_.) _I_ don't know. It's so unfair. You're not my wife at all, but I want to do what's right.... (_Sits foot of table_ L.C.) Oh, Olivia, Olivia, you do understand, don't you? (_They have both forgotten_ LADY MARDEN. OLIVIA _has never taken her eyes off him as he makes his last attempt to convince himself_.) OLIVIA (_almost tenderly_). So very, very well, George. Oh, I understand just what you are feeling. And oh, I do so wish that you could--(_with a little sigh_)--but then it wouldn't be George, not the George I married-- (_with a rueful little laugh_)--or didn't quite marry. LADY MARDEN. I must say, I think you are both talking a little wildly. OLIVIA (_repeating it, oh, so tenderly_). Or didn't--quite--marry. (_She looks at him with all her heart in her eyes. She is giving him his last chance to say "Damn Telworthy; you're mine!" He rises and crosses to_ R. _He struggles desperately with himself, turns to_ OLIVIA.) GEORGE. Olivia! Olivia! My darling! (_She rises. He crosses to her and takes her in his arms_.) (ANNE _enters from double doors_ R.) ANNE. Mr. Pim is here, sir. OLIVIA (_prompting him_). Mr. Pim, dear. GEORGE (_emerging from the struggle with an effort_). Pim? Pim? Oh, ah, yes, of course. (_Crossing up to_ ANNE.) Mr. Pim. (_Looking up_.) Where have you put him? OLIVIA. I want to see Mr. Pim, too, George. LADY MARDEN (_coming down_ C. _to_ R. _of table_ L.C.). Who on earth is Mr. Pim? OLIVIA. Show him in here, Anne. (GEORGE _comes back to_ C.) ANNE. Yes, madam. (_She goes out double doors_ R.)