ISOBEL. What a horrible story! Give him the money, Mr. Royce.
BLAYDS. Keep it for me, Isobel. (ISOBEL takes it.)
ROYCE. Is it true, sir?
BLAYDS. So Meredith said. He told me.
ROYCE. Lord, what pluck! I think I should have forgiven him for that.
BLAYDS. Yes, an unfair thing to do; but having done it, he carried it off in the grand manner.
ISOBEL. To save himself.
BLAYDS. Well, well. But he had qualities. Don’t you think so, Mr. Royce?
ROYCE. I do indeed.
(There is a silence. The excitement of the occasion has died away, and you can almost see BLAYDS getting older.)