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 matrimony which was no true partnership, whether of tastes, or of ideas, or even of consciences! (With a sigh) Ah me! GEORGE (nastily). Unfortunately for your argument, Olivia, I can answer you out of your own mouth. You seem to have forgotten what you said this morning in the case of--er--young Strange. OLIVIA (reproachfully). Is it quite fair, George, to drag up what was said this morning? GEORGE. You've brought it on yourself. OLIVIA. I? . . . Well, and what did I say this morning? GEORGE. You said that it was quite enough that Strange was a gentleman and in love with Dinah for me to let them marry each other. OLIVIA. Oh! . . . _Is_ that enough, George? GEORGE (triumphantly). You said so. OLIVIA (meekly). Well, if you think so, too, I--I don't mind risking it. GEORGE (kindly). Aha, my dear! You see! OLIVIA. Then you do think it's enough? GEORGE. I--er--Yes, yes, I--I think so. OLIVIA (going to him). My darling one! Then we can have a double wedding. How jolly! GEORGE (astounded). A double one! OLIVIA. Yes. You and me, Brian and Dinah. GEORGE (firmly). Now look here, Olivia, understand once and for all, I am not to be blackmailed into giving my consent to Dinah's engagement. Neither blackmailed nor tricked. Our marriage has nothing whatever to do with Dinah's. OLIVIA. No, dear. I quite understand. They may take place about the same time, but they have nothing to do with each other.