ROYCE (smiling). And what did Blayds the poet’s grandson say?
OLIVER. Urged on by Blayds the poet’s son-in-law, Blayds the poet’s grandson offered to recite his grandfather’s well-known poem, “A Child’s Thoughts on Waking.” I’m sorry you missed it, Royce, but it’s no good asking for it now.
ROYCE (half to himself). It was at Bournemouth. He was there with his daughter. Not your mother, she would have been younger than that.
OLIVER. You mean Aunt Isobel.
ROYCE. Isobel, yes. (After a little silence) Isobel Blayds. Yes, that was eighteen years ago. I was about your age.
OLIVER. A fine handsome young fellow like me?
ROYCE. Yes.
OLIVER. Any grandfathers living?
ROYCE. No.
OLIVER. Lucky devil. But I don’t suppose you realised it.