Second Plays Part 23

DINAH. Yes, I always say that he's probably still alive, and will turn up here one morning and annoy George, because that's what first husbands always do in books, but I'm afraid there's not much chance.

PIM (shocked). Miss Marden!

DINAH. Well, of course, I don't really _want_ it to happen, but it _would_ be rather exciting, wouldn't it? However, things like that never seem to occur down here, somehow. There was a hay-rick burnt last year about a mile away, but that isn't quite the same thing, is it?

PIM. No, I should say that that was certainly different.

DINAH. Of course, something very, very wonderful did happen last night, but I'm not sure if I know you well enough---- (She looks at him hesitatingly.)

PIM (uncomfortably). Really, Miss Marden, I am only a--a pa.s.ser-by, here to-day and gone to-morrow. You really mustn't----

DINAH. And yet there's something about you, Mr. Pim, which inspires confidence. The fact is--(in a stage whisper)--I got engaged last night!

PIM. Dear me, let me congratulate you.

DINAH. I expect that's why George is keeping you such a long time.

Brian, my young man, the well-known painter--only n.o.body has ever heard of him--he's smoking a pipe with George in the library and asking for his niece's hand. Isn't it exciting? You're really rather lucky, Mr. Pim--I mean being told so soon. Even Olivia doesn't know yet.

PIM (getting up). Yes, yes. I congratulate you, Miss Marden. Perhaps it would be better----

[ANNE comes in.

ANNE. Mr. Marden is out at the moment, sir---- Oh, I didn't see you, Miss Dinah.

DINAH. It's all right, Anne. _I'm_ looking after Mr. Pim.

ANNE. Yes, Miss.

[She goes out.

DINAH (excitedly). That's me. They can't discuss me in the library without breaking down, so they're walking up and down outside, and slas.h.i.+ng at the thistles in order to conceal their emotion. _You_ know. I expect Brian----

PIM (looking at his watch). Yes, I think, Miss Marden, I had better go now and return a little later. I have a telegram which I want to send, and perhaps by the time I came back----

DINAH. Oh, but how disappointing of you, when we were getting on together so nicely. And it was just going to be your turn to tell me all about _your_self.

PIM. I have really nothing to tell, Miss Marden. I have a letter of introduction to Mr. Marden, who in turn will give me, I hope, a letter to a certain distinguished man whom it is necessary for me to meet.

That is all. (Holding out his hand) And now, Miss Marden----

DINAH. Oh, I'll start you on your way to the post office. I want to know if you're married, and all that sort of thing. You've got heaps to tell me, Mr. Pim. Have you got your hat? That's right. Then we'll--hullo, here's Brian.

(BRIAN STRANGE comes in at the windows. He is what GEORGE calls a d.a.m.ned futuristic painter-chap, aged twenty-four. To look at, he is a very pleasant boy, rather untidily dressed.)

BRIAN (nodding). How do you do?

DINAH (seizing him). Brian, this is Mr. Pim. Mr. Carraway Pim. He's been telling me all about himself. It's so interesting. He's just going to send a telegram, and then he's coming back again. Mr. Pim, this is Brian--_you_ know.

BRIAN (smiling and shaking hands). How do you do?

DINAH (pleadingly). You _won't_ mind going to the post office by yourself, will you, because, you see, Brian and I--(she looks lovingly at BRIAN).

PIM (because they are so young). Miss Dinah and Mr.--er--Brian, I have only come into your lives for a moment, and it is probable that I shall now pa.s.s out of them for ever, but you will allow an old man----

DINAH. Oh, not old!

PIM (chuckling happily). Well, a middle-aged man--to wish you both every happiness in the years that you have before you. Good-bye, good-bye.

[He disappears gently through the windows.

DINAH. Brian, he'll get lost if he goes that way.

BRIAN (going to the windows and calling after him). Round to the left, sir. . . . That's right. (He comes back into the room) Rum old bird. Who is he?

DINAH. Darling, you haven't kissed me yet.

BRIAN (taking her in his arms). I oughtn't to, but then one never ought to do the nice things.

DINAH. Why oughtn't you?

(They sit on the sofa together.)

BRIAN. Well, we said we'd be good until we'd told your uncle and aunt all about it. You see, being a guest in their house----

DINAH. But, darling child, what _have_ you been doing all this morning _except_ telling George?

BRIAN. _Trying_ to tell George.

DINAH (nodding). Yes, of course, there's a difference.

BRIAN. I think he guessed there was something up, and he took me down to see the pigs--he said he had to see the pigs at once--I don't know why; an appointment perhaps. And we talked about pigs all the way, and I couldn't say, "Talking about pigs, I want to marry your niece----"

DINAH (with mock indignation). Of course you couldn't.

BRIAN. No. Well, you see how it was. And then when we'd finished talking about pigs, we started talking _to_ the pigs----

DINAH (eagerly). Oh, _how_ is Arnold?

BRIAN. The little black-and-white one? He's very jolly, I believe, but naturally I wasn't thinking about him much. I was wondering how to begin. And then Lumsden came up, and wanted to talk pig-food, and the atmosphere grew less and less romantic, and--and I gradually drifted away.

DINAH. Poor darling. Well, we shall have to approach him through Olivia.

BRIAN. But I always wanted to tell her first; she's so much easier.

Only you wouldn't let me.

DINAH. That's _your_ fault, Brian. You would tell Olivia that she ought to have orange-and-black curtains.

BRIAN. But she _wants_ orange-and-black curtains.