(There is an awkward silence.)
MARION. You’ll excuse me a moment, Mr.—er—er——
OLIVER. Royce, Mother, A. L. Royce.
MARION. Septima—— This is naturally rather a busy day, Mr.—er—— We hardly expected—— (She [191]frowns at OLIVER, who ought to have known better by this time.) Septima, I want you just a moment—Oliver will look after his friend. I’m sure you’ll understand, Mr.—er——
ROYCE. Oh, quite. Of course.
SEPTIMA. Mr. Royce has come to see Grandfather, Mother.
MARION (appalled). To see Grandfather!
ROYCE. I was hoping—Mr. Blayds-Conway was good enough to say——
MARION. I am afraid it is quite impossible. I am very sorry, but really quite impossible. My son shouldn’t have held out hopes.
OLIVER. He didn’t. You’re barking up the wrong tree, Mother. It’s Father who invited him.