you, thank you. Very stupid of me to have forgotten.

[ANNE goes out.

(MR. PIM wanders about the room humming to himself, and looking
vaguely at the pictures. He has his back to the door as DINAH comes
in. She is nineteen, very pretty, very happy, and full of boyish high
spirits and conversation.)

DINAH. Hullo!

PIM (turning round). Ah, good morning, Mrs. Marden. You must forgive
my--er--

DINAH. Oh I say, I'm not Mrs. Marden. I'm Dinah.

PIM (with a bow). Then I will say, Good morning, Miss Diana.

DINAH (reproachfully). Now, look here, if you and I are going to be
friends you mustn't do that. Dinah, _not_ Diana. Do remember it,
there's a good man, because I get so tired of correcting people. Have
you come to stay with us?

PIM. Well no, Miss--er--Dinah.

DINAH (nodding). That's right. I can see I shan't have to speak to
_you_ again. Now tell me _your_ name, and I bet you I get it right
first time. And do sit down.

PIM (sitting down). Thank you. My name is--er--Pim, Carraway Pim--

DINAH. Pim, that's easy.

PIM. And I have a letter of introduction to your father--

DINAH. Oh no; now you're going wrong again, Mr. Pim. George isn't my
father; he's my uncle. _Uncle_ George--he doesn't like me calling him
George. Olivia doesn't mind--I mean she doesn't mind being called
Olivia, but George is rather touchy. You see, he's been my guardian
since I was about two, and then about five years ago he married a
widow called Mrs. Telworthy--that's Olivia--so she became my Aunt
Olivia, only she lets me drop the Aunt. Got that?

PIM (a little alarmed). I--I think so, Miss Marden.

DINAH (admiringly). I say, you _are_ quick, Mr. Pim. Well, if you take
my advice, when you've finished your business with George, you will
hang about a bit and see if you can't see Olivia. She's simply
devastating. I don't wonder George fell in love with her.

PIM. It's only the merest matter of business--just a few minutes with
your uncle--I'm afraid I shall hardly--

DINAH. Well, you must please yourself, Mr. Pim. I'm just giving you a
friendly word of advice. Naturally, I was awfully glad to get such a
magnificent aunt, because, of course, marriage _is_ rather a toss up,
isn't it, and George might have gone off with anybody. It's different
on the stage, where guardians always marry their wards, but George
couldn't marry _me_ because I'm his niece. Mind you, I don't say that
I should have had him, because between ourselves he's