LADY MARDEN (_coming to_ GEORGE). A dispensation of Providence, George. One can regard it in no other light. (_Moves to_ R. _of writing-table_.) GEORGE (_coming to_ PIM). Yes! Yes! Well, I'm much obliged to you, Mr. Pim, for having come down to us this afternoon, and you understand that your news, though tardy, has been very welcome. _De Mortuis_, and so forth. (LADY MARDEN _crosses at back of writing-table to_ L.) PIM (_sadly repeating_). _De Mortuis--_ GEORGE (_shaking hands--anxious to get rid of him_). Well, good-bye, and again our thanks. (_Crosses below and to_ L. _of_ PIM _and rings bell below fireplace_.) PIM (_crossing to centre_). Not at all. I shouldn't have broken the news so hastily. (_Catches sight of_ LADY MARDEN _up_ L., _and with a profound bow_.) Good-bye, Lady Marden. LADY MARDEN (_equally profound_). Good-bye, Mr. Pim. PIM. I'm afraid I broke the news too hastily. (_Goes to table_ B.C. _and takes up_ GEORGE'S _cap in mistake for his hat and is moving towards double-doors when_ GEORGE, _noting this, picks up_ PIM'S _hat from_ L. _of stage where it has been left from previous_ ACT, _and crosses with it to_ PIM.) GEORGE. Mr. Pim, excuse me, but I think this is yours. PIM (_he takes it and looks at it closely, comparing it with the cap_). This isn't my hat at all. (_Puts_ GEORGE'S _cap down on table again_.) No, that isn't my hat. (_Takes his own hat from_ GEORGE.) This is my hat. Good-bye! (_Shakes hands_.) Thank you so much. (_Looking at cap on table_.) Oh, no! Oh, no! (_Moves nearer to door_ R.) Telworthy... I _think_ that was the name. (_Exit doors_ R.) (LADY MARDEN, _annoyed at_ PIM'S _stupidity, comes down to_ L. _of_ GEORGE.) GEORGE (_turning to_ LADY MARDEN _and with a sigh of thankfulness_). Well, this is wonderful news, Aunt Julia. LADY MARDEN. Most providential. Well, I must be getting along now, George. Say good-bye to Olivia for me. GEORGE (_crossing towards double-doors as if to open them_). Good-bye, Aunt Julia. LADY MARDEN. No! No! I'll go this way--(_going up to_ L. _of writing-table_)--and get Olivia out more, George. I don't like these hysterics. (_Banging writing-table_.) You want to be firmer with her. GEORGE. Yes! Yes! Good-bye. LADY MARDEN (_going off up_ L.). Good-bye. GEORGE (_back again down centre and with great thankfulness_). Dead! Dead! (_Moves down to below settee_ L.) (OLIVIA _enters from staircase, watching him and coming quietly to_ C.) GEORGE (_approaching her enthusiastically_). Olivia! Olivia! (_Is about to embrace her, but she restrains him_.) OLIVIA (_drawing herself up_). Mrs. Telworthy! GEORGE (_taken aback_). What? Olivia! I--I don't understand. OLIVIA. Well, darling, if my husband only died at Marseilles a few days ago---- GEORGE (_scratching his head_). Yes, I see--I see. Well, we can soon put that right. (_Moving to_ L.) A registry office in London. Better go up this afternoon. We can't do these things too quickly--we can stay at an hotel.