(_The room is empty for a moment, and then ISOBEL comes in. She is nearly forty. You can see how lovely she was at twenty, but she gave up being lovely eighteen years ago, said good-bye to ISOBEL, and became just Nurse. If BLAYDS wants cheerfulness, she is cheerful; if sympathy, sympathetic; if interest, interested. She is off duty now, and we see at once how tired she is. But she has some spiritual comfort, some secret pride to sustain her, and it is only occasionally that the tiredness, the deadness, shows through. She has flowers in her arms, and slowly, thoughtfully, she decks the room for the great man. We see now for a moment that she is much older than we thought; it is for her own ninetieth birthday that she is decorating the room.... Now she has finished, and she sits down, her hands in her lap, waiting, waiting patiently.... Some thought brings a wistful smile to her mouth. Yes, she must have been very lovely at twenty. Then ROYCE comes in._) ROYCE. Oh, I beg your pardon. (_He sees who it is._) Oh! ISOBEL. It’s all right, I—— Are you waiting to see—— (_She recognises him_) Oh! (_They stand looking at each other, about six feet apart, not moving, saying nothing. Then very gently he begins to hum the refrain of a waltz. Slowly she remembers._) ISOBEL. How long ago was it? ROYCE. Eighteen years. ISOBEL (_who has lived eighty years since then_). So little? ROYCE (_distressed_). Isobel! ISOBEL (_remembering his name now_). Austin. ROYCE. It comes back to you? ISOBEL. A few faded memories—and the smell of the pine woods. And there was a band, wasn’t there? That was the waltz they played. _How_ did it go? (_He gives her a bar or two again.... She nods_) Yes. (_She whispers the tune to herself._) Why does that make me think of—— Didn’t you cut your wrist? On the rocks? ROYCE. You remember? (_He holds out his wrist_) Look! ISOBEL (_nodding_). I knew that came into it. I tied it up for you. ROYCE (_sentimentally_). I have the handkerchief still. (_More honestly_) Somewhere.... I know I have it. (_He tries to think where it would be._) ISOBEL. There was a dog, wasn’t there? ROYCE. How well you remember. Rags. A fox terrier. ISOBEL (_doubtfully_). Yes? ROYCE. Or was that later? I had an Aberdeen before that. ISOBEL. Yes, that was it, I think. ROYCE. Thomas. ISOBEL (_smiling_). Thomas. Yes.... Only eighteen little years ago. But what worlds away. Just give me that tune again. (_He gives it to her, and the memories stir again._) You had a pipe you were very proud of—with a cracked bowl—and a silver band to keep it together. What silly things one remembers ... you’d forgotten it. ROYCE. I remember that pink cotton dress. ISOBEL. Eighty years ago. Or is it only eighteen? And now we meet again. You married? I seem to remember hearing. ROYCE (_uncomfortably_). Yes. ISOBEL. I hope it was happy. ROYCE. No. We separated. ISOBEL. I am sorry.