OLIVER (as he comes in). This way. (He holds the door open for ROYCE.)
ROYCE (coming in). Thanks.
OLIVER. Some of the family will be showing up directly. Make yourself comfortable. (For himself, he does his best in one of the dignified chairs.)
ROYCE. Thanks. (He looks round the room with interest, and sees the picture over the fireplace) Hallo, there he is.
OLIVER. What? (Bored) Oh, the old ’un, yes.
ROYCE (reverently). Oliver Blayds, the last of the Victorians. (OLIVER sighs and looks despairingly to Heaven.) I can’t take my hat off because it’s off already, but I should like to.
OLIVER. Good Lord, you don’t really feel like that, do you?
[182]ROYCE. Of course. Don’t you?
OLIVER. Well, hardly. He’s my grandfather.
ROYCE. True. (Smiling) All the same, there’s nothing in the Ten Commandments about not honouring your grandfather.