decided on them long ago. (_To_ BRIAN.) You haven't told George yet.

BRIAN (_moving to below stool_ L.C.). I began to, you know, but I never
got any farther than "Er--there's just--er--"

DINAH (_crossing quickly below_ OLIVIA _and speaking into her face_).
George would talk about _pigs_ all the time.

OLIVIA. Well, I suppose you want me to help you.

DINAH (_sitting to_ L. _of_ OLIVIA). Oh, do, darling.

BRIAN (_sits on stool_ L.C.). It would be awfully decent of you. Of
course, I'm not quite his sort really--

DINAH. You're my sort.

BRIAN. But I don't think he objects to me, and--

(GEORGE _comes in from terrace, a typical, narrow-minded, honest country
gentleman of forty odd._ BRIAN _rises hurriedly and crosses to above
piano to_ R. DINAH _rises and stands by fireplace._ OLIVIA _unfolds
curtains and prepares to sew_.)

GEORGE (_at the windows--he does not see_ BRIAN). Hullo! Hullo! Hullo!
What's all this about a Mr. Pim? Who is he? Where is he? (_He puts his
cap on table, and comes down, into room_.) I had most important business
with Lumsden, and the girl comes down and cackles about a Mr, Pim, or
Ping, or something. Where did I put his card? (_Bringing it out_.)
Carraway Pim. Never heard of him in my life, (_Moves back to writing-