But
then I've noticed that before sometimes. Do you think Olivia and your
uncle have quarrelled because of _us_?
DINAH. Of course not. George may _think_ he has quarrelled, but I'm
quite sure Olivia hasn't. No, I believe Mr. Pim's at the bottom of it.
He's brought some terribly sad news about George's investments. The
old home will have to be sold up.
BRIAN. Good. Then your uncle won't mind your marrying me.
DINAH. Yes, darling, but you must be more dramatic about it than that.
"George," you must say, with tears in your eyes, "I cannot pay off the
whole of the mortgage for you. I have only two and ninepence; but at
least let me take your niece off your hands." Then George will thump
you on the back and say gruffly, "You're a good fellow, Brian, a damn
good fellow," and he'll blow his nose very loudly, and say, "Confound
this cigar, it won't draw properly." (She gives us a rough impression
of GEORGE doing it.)
BRIAN. Dinah, you're a heavenly idiot. And you've simply got to marry
me, uncles or no uncles.
DINAH. It will have to be "uncles," I'm afraid, because, you see, I'm
his ward, and I can get sent to Chancery or Coventry or somewhere
beastly, if I marry without his consent. Haven't _you_ got anybody who
objects to your marrying _me_?
BRIAN.
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