(_As he goes out by the windows,_ GEORGE _comes in at the doors_ R. GEORGE _stands_ R.C., _and then turns to_ OLIVIA, _who is absorbed in her curtain. He walks up and down the room, fidgeting with things, waiting for her to speak. As she says nothing, he begins to talk himself, but in an obviously unconcerned way. There is a pause after each answer of hers, before he gets out his next remark_.) GEORGE (_casually_). Good-looking fellow, Strange. What? OLIVIA (_equally casually_). Brian, yes, isn't he? And such a nice boy. GEORGE. Yes, yes! (_Catching sight of curtain she is sewing. Hums the tune of "Pop goes the weasel"--crossing down_ R. _to piano, plays a few notes of "Pop goes the weasel" with one finger_.) Got fifty pounds for a picture the other day, didn't he? (_Moving up stage a little_.) OLIVIA. Ah, yes! Of course he has only just begun---- GEORGE. The critics think well of him, (_Slight pause_.) What? (_Up C. by chair front of writing-table_.) OLIVIA. They all say he has genius. Oh, I don't think there's any doubt about it. (_Pause_.) (GEORGE _left of writing-table_.) GEORGE. No, no! (_Slight pause, and he sings again_.) Of course I don't profess to know anything about painting, myself. OLIVIA. You've never had time to take it up, dear. GEORGE (_coming down_ L. _a little_.) No! No! Of course I know what I like. Can't say I see much in this new-fangled stuff. If a man can paint, why can't he paint like--like Rubens, or--or Reynolds, or---- OLIVIA. I suppose we all have our own styles. Brian will be finding his, directly. Of course, he's only just beginning. (_Pause_.) GEORGE (_crossing up centre_). Yes, yes. But the critics think a lot of him, what? OLIVIA. Oh, yes. GEORGE. Yes! H'm! (_Pause_.) Good-looking fellow. (_There is rather a longer silence this time._ GEORGE _coming round back of settee L. continues to hope that he is appearing casual and unconcerned--he stands looking at_ OLIVIA'S _work for a moment_.) GEORGE (_down_ L.). Nearly finished 'em? OLIVIA. Very nearly. (_Smiling to herself, turns away to R., pretending to look for scissors_.) Have you seen my scissors anywhere? GEORGE (_looking round_). Scissors? OLIVIA (_turns to_ L. _and finds them in her work-box_). It's all right, here they are---- GEORGE (_down_ L. _below chair facing_ OLIVIA). Where are you thinking of hanging 'em? OLIVIA (_as if really wondering_). I don't quite know.... I _had_ thought of this room, but--I'm not quite sure. GEORGE (_crossing below_ OLIVIA _to centre_). Ah! Yes! Brighten the room up a bit. OLIVIA. Yes. GEORGE (_walking up centre a little towards windows_). H'm, yes----They are a bit faded. OLIVIA (_shaking out hers, and looking at them critically_). You know, sometimes I think I love them, and sometimes I'm not quite sure. GEORGE. Best way is to hang 'em up and see how you like 'em. Always take 'em down again. OLIVIA. Oh, that's a good idea, George. GEORGE. Best way.