DINAH. But, darling child, what _have_ you been doing all this morning _except_ telling George? BRIAN. Oh, _trying_ to tell George. DINAH (_nodding_). Yes, of course, there's a difference. BRIAN. I think he _guessed_ there was something up, and he took me down to see the pigs--he said he had to see the pigs at once--I don't know why; an appointment perhaps. And we talked about pigs all the way, and I couldn't say, "Talking about pigs, I want to marry your niece--" DINAH (_with mock indignation_). Oh, of course you couldn't. BRIAN. No. Well, you see how it was. And then when we'd finished talking _about_ pigs, we started talking _to_ the pigs-- DINAH (_eagerly_). Oh, _how_ is Arnold? BRIAN. Arnold...? Oh yes, that's the little black-and-white one? He's very jolly, I believe, but naturally I wasn't thinking about him much. I was wondering how to begin. And then Lumsden came up, and wanted to talk pig-food, and the atmosphere grew less and less romantic, and--and I gradually drifted away. DINAH. Oh, poor darling! Well, we shall have to approach him through Olivia. BRIAN. But I always wanted to tell her first; she's so much easier. Only _you_ wouldn't let me. DINAH. That's _your_ fault, Brian. You would tell Olivia that she ought to have orange-and-black curtains in here. BRIAN. But she wants orange and black curtains in here. DINAH. Yes. (_Rising and standing with her back to fire, imitating_ GEORGE.) But George says he's not going to have any Futuristic nonsense in an honest English country house, which has been good enough for his father and his grandfather and his great-grandfather, and--and all the rest of them. (_Kneels on settee_.) So there's a sort of strained feeling between Olivia and George just now, and if Olivia were to--sort of recommend you, well, it wouldn't do you much good. BRIAN (_looking at her_). I see. Of course I know what _you_ want, Dinah. DINAH. What do I want? BRIAN. You want a secret engagement-- DINAH. Oh! BRIAN. And notes left under door-mats-- DINAH. Oh! BRIAN. And meetings by the withered thorn-- DINAH. Oh! BRIAN. When all the household is asleep. DINAH. Oh! BRIAN. I know you. DINAH. Oh, but it is such fun! I love meeting people by withered thorns. BRIAN. Well, I'm not going to have it. DINAH (_childishly, sitting close to him_). Oh, George! Look at us being husbandy! BRIAN. You babe! I adore you. (_He kisses her and holds her hands_.) You know, you're rather throwing yourself away on me. Do you mind? DINAH (_putting her legs up on settee and reclining her head on his shoulder_). Not a bit. BRIAN. We shall never be rich, but we shall have lots of fun, and meet interesting people, and feel that we're doing something worth doing, and not getting paid nearly enough for it, and we can curse the Academy together and the British Public, and--oh, it's an exciting life. DINAH (_seeing it_). I shall love it. BRIAN (_sincerely_). I'll make you love it. You shan't be sorry, Dinah.