WILLIAM (sulkily). A thousand pounds each.
OLIVER. Sportsman! What about you, Father? Do you get anything?
MARION. Father gets a thousand too.
SEPTIMA. Then why “of all the extraordinary wills——”?
MARION. It’s because of Aunt Isobel being made sole executor—literary executor too—isn’t that it, dear?
[225]WILLIAM (mumbling). Yes.
OLIVER. Oho! Meaning that she runs Blayds now? New editions, biographies, unpublished fragments, and all the rest of it?
MARION. Naturally she will leave it in Father’s hands. But, of course, Father is a little hurt that Grandfather didn’t think of that for himself.
OLIVER. Oh, well, I don’t suppose it matters much. Then that’s why she wants to see us all now.
(WILLIAM grunts assent; and stands up as ISOBEL comes in.)