)
OLIVIA (almost tenderly). So very very well, George. Oh, I understand
just what you are feeling. And oh, I do so wish that you could--(with
a little sigh)--but then it wouldn't be George, not the George I
married--(with a rueful little laugh)--or didn't quite marry.
LADY MARDEN. I must say, I think you are both talking a little wildly.
OLIVIA (repeating it, oh, so tenderly). Or didn't--quite--marry. (She
looks at him with all her heart in her eyes. She is giving him his
last chance to say "Damn Telworthy; you're mine!" He struggles
desperately with himself. . . . Will he?--will he? . . . But we shall never
know, for at that moment ANNE comes in.)
ANNE. Mr. Pim is here, sir.
GEORGE (emerging from the struggle with an effort). Pim? Pim? Oh, ah,
yes, of course. Mr. Pim. (Looking up) Where have you put him?
OLIVIA. I want to see Mr. Pim, too, George.
LADY MARDEN. Who on earth is Mr. Pim?
OLIVIA. Show him in here, Anne.
ANNE. Yes, madam. [She goes out.
OLIVIA. It was Mr. Pim who told us about my husband. He came across
with him in the boat, and recognised him as the Telworthy he knew in
Australia.
LADY MARDEN. Oh! Shall I be in the way?
GEORGE. No, no. It doesn't matter, does it, Olivia?
OLIVIA.
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