Er--may I call you Olivia?
OLIVIA. Yes, George.
GEORGE (taking her hand). Olivia--I--(He hesitates.)
OLIVIA. I don't want to interrupt, but oughtn't you to be on your
knees? It is--usual, I believe. If one of the servants came in, you
could say you were looking for my scissors.
GEORGE. Really, Olivia, you must allow me to manage my own proposal in
my own way.
OLIVIA (meekly). I'm sorry. Do go on.
GEORGE. Well, er--confound it, Olivia, I love you. Will you marry me?
OLIVIA. Thank you, George, I will think it over.
GEORGE (laughing). Silly girl! Well then, to-morrow morning. No
wedding-cake, I'm afraid, Olivia. (He laughs again) But we'll go and
have a good lunch somewhere.
OLIVIA. I will think it over, George.
GEORGE (good-humouredly). Well, give us a kiss while you're thinking.
OLIVIA. I'm afraid you mustn't kiss me until we are actually engaged.
GEORGE (laughing uneasily). Oh, we needn't take it as seriously as all
that.
OLIVIA. But a woman must take a proposal seriously.
GEORGE (alarmed at last). What do you mean?
OLIVIA. I mean that the whole question, as I heard somebody say once,
demands much more anxious thought than either of us has given it.
These hasty marriages--
GEORGE.
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