ISOBEL. He wrote the 1863 volume.
WILLIAM (staggered). Oh!
OLIVER. The wash-out? By Jove! Then that explains it!
ISOBEL. Yes, that explains it. He tried to tell himself that he was a poet too; that he had only used the other man in order to give himself a start. So he brought out a volume of his own poems. And then [232]when everybody said “Blayds is finished,” he went back hastily to his friend and never ventured by himself again. And that explains why he resented the criticism of that volume, why he was so pleased when it was praised. It was all that he had written.
WILLIAM (defeated now). Yes, that would explain it. (To himself) Oliver Blayds!...
(They are all silent for a little.)
SEPTIMA. Then he didn’t write “Septima.”
OLIVER. Of course he didn’t. You’re illegitimate, old girl.
SEPTIMA. Who did?
ISOBEL. The other man’s name was Jenkins.