SEPTIMA. Yes. Would he? It would be beastly unfair, of course, but I suppose he would.
MARION (at the end of her resources). Septima, you’re not to talk like that.
SEPTIMA. I think I’ll get Aunt Isobel to tackle Grandfather. She’s only forty. Perhaps she could persuade him.
[196]MARION. I won’t hear another word. And you had better tidy yourself up. I will finish these letters myself.
SEPTIMA (going to the door). Yes, I must go and tidy up. (At the door) But I warn you, Mother, I mean to have it out this time. And if Grandfather—— (She breaks off as her father comes in) Oh, Lord! (She comes back into the room, making way for him.)
(WILLIAM BLAYDS-CONWAY was obviously meant for the Civil Service. His prim neatness, his gold pince-nez, his fussiness would be invaluable in almost any Department. However, running BLAYDS is the next best thing to running the Empire.)
WILLIAM. What is this, Septima? Where are you going?
SEPTIMA. Tidy myself up.
WILLIAM. That’s right. And then you might help your mother to entertain Mr. Royce until we send for him. Perhaps we might—wait a moment——
MARION. Oh, have you seen Mr. Royce, William? He seems a nice young man, doesn’t he? I’m sure Grandfather will like him.