ROYCE. We ought to have it ready by to-morrow.
OLIVER. H’m.... Then I had better start looking for a job at once.
ROYCE. Nonsense!
OLIVER. It isn’t nonsense. What do you think my chief will want me for, if I’m not Blayds the poet’s grandson?
ROYCE. Your intrinsic qualities.
OLIVER. I’m afraid they are not intrinsic enough in the present state of the market.
ROYCE. Well, you said you wanted to be a motor engineer—now’s your chance.
OLIVER. Helpful fellow, Royce. Now, as he says, is my chance. (There is a pause and then he says suddenly) I say, what do you think about it all?
[244]ROYCE. What do you mean, think about it all? What is there to think? One tries not to think. It’s—shattering.
OLIVER. No, I don’t mean that. I mean—do you really think he did it?