)
Brian!
(_Crossing to piano, sits and plays five bars of "The Wedding March,"
rises and crosses at back of_ BRIAN _to_ L. _of_ OLIVIA _behind settee_.)
Have you really talked him round?
OLIVIA. I haven't said anything yet.
DINAH (_very disappointed_). Oh!
(BRIAN _rises and backs to_ C.)
OLIVIA. But I dare say I shall think of something.
BRIAN. Oh! my lord.
DINAH (_disappointedly_). Oh!
BRIAN (_going up_ C.). After all, Dinah, I'm going back to London to-
morrow----
DINAH (_crossing quickly towards_ BRIAN). Oh, no, no!
OLIVIA. Now, Dinah. You can be good for one more day, and then when Brian
isn't here, we'll see what we can do.
DINAH (_placing her hands on_ BRIAN'S _shoulders_). Yes, but I didn't
want him to go back to-morrow.
BRIAN (_sternly, taking her hands away_). Must. Hard work before me.
(DINAH _moves to back of table_ L.C.) Earn thousands a year. (_Going
down_ R. DINAH _and_ OLIVIA _are amused_). Paint the Mayor and
Corporation of Pudsey, life-size, including chains of office; paint slice
of haddock on plate. Copy Landseer for old gentleman in Bayswater. Design
antimacassar for middle-aged sofa in Streatham. (_Sitting and putting his
legs up on settee R_.) Oh, yes. Earn a living for you. Dinah.
DINAH (_giggling_). Oh, Brian, you're heavenly. What fun we shall have
when we're married.
BRIAN (_with exaggerated dignity_). Sir Brian Strange, R.A., if you
please, Miss Marden.
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