) Olivia, I--(_Hesitates_.)
OLIVIA. I don't want to interrupt, but oughtn't you to be on your knees?
It is--usual, I believe. GEORGE. Really, Olivia, you must allow me to
manage my own proposal in my own way.
OLIVIA (_meekly--and resuming her coyness_). 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. (_Pats her on the shoulder and crosses
to_ R.) Well, then, to-morrow morning. No wedding cake, I'm afraid,
Olivia. (_He laughs again and moves up centre_.) But we'll go and have a
good lunch somewhere.
OLIVIA. I will think it over, George.
GEORGE (_good-humouredly and coming down to back of settee to her_ R.).
Well, give me a kiss while you're thinking.
OLIVIA. I'm afraid you mustn't kiss me until we are actually engaged.
GEORGE (_laughing uneasily, and sitting and leaning over on table_ L.C.
_towards_ OLIVIA). Oh, we needn't take it as seriously as all that.
OLIVIA. But a woman must take a proposal seriously.
GEORGE (_a little alarmed at last_). What do you mean?
OLIVIA. Well, what I mean is that the whole question--(_with a sly look
at_ GEORGE)--as I heard somebody say once, demands much more anxious
thought than either of us has given it. These hasty marriages----
GEORGE (_rising and crossing at back of_ OLIVIA _round settee and to_ L.
_of_ OLIVIA). Hasty!
OLIVIA.
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