ROYCE. Was it likely it would be? ISOBEL (_surprised_). Was that all the chance of happiness you gave her? ROYCE. You think I oughtn’t to have married? ISOBEL. Oh, my dear, who am I to order people’s lives? ROYCE. You ordered mine. ISOBEL (_ignoring this_). But you _have_ been happy? Marriage isn’t everything. You have been happy in your work, in your books, in your friends? ROYCE (_after thinking_). Yes, Isobel, on the whole, yes. ISOBEL. I’m glad.... (_She holds out her hand suddenly with a smile_) How do you do, Mr. Royce? (_She is inviting him to step off the sentimental footing._) ROYCE (_stepping off_). How do you do, Miss Blayds? It’s delightful to meet you again. ISOBEL. Let’s sit down; shall we? (_They sit down together._) My father will be coming in directly. You are here to see him, of course? ROYCE. Yes. Tell me about him—or rather about yourself. You are still looking after him? ISOBEL. Yes. ROYCE. For eighteen years. ISOBEL. Nearly twenty altogether. ROYCE. And has it been worth it? ISOBEL. He has written wonderful things in those twenty years. Not very much, but very wonderful. ROYCE. Yes, that has always been the miracle about him, the way he has kept his youth. And the fire and spirit of youth. You have helped him there. ISOBEL (_proudly_). Has it been worth it? ROYCE (_puzzled_). I don’t know. It’s difficult to say. The world would think so; but I—naturally I am prejudiced. ISOBEL. Yes. ROYCE (_smiling_). You might have looked after _me_ for those eighteen years. ISOBEL. Did you want it as much as he? (_As he protests_) No, I don’t mean “want” it—need it? ROYCE. Well, that’s always the problem, isn’t it—whether the old or the young have the better right to be selfish. We both needed you, in different ways. You gave yourself to him, and he has wasted your life. I don’t think _I_ should have wasted it. ISOBEL. I am proud to have helped him. No one will know. Everything which he wrote will be his. Only _I_ shall know how much of it was mine. Well, that’s something. Not wasted. ROYCE. Sacrificed. ISOBEL. Am I to regret that? ROYCE. Do you regret it? ISOBEL (_after considering_). When you asked me to marry you I—I couldn’t. He was an old man then; he wanted me; I was everything to him. Oh, he has had his friends, more friends than any man, but he had to be the head of a family too, and without me—I’ve kept him alive, active. He has sharpened his brains on me. (_With a shrug_) On whom else? ROYCE. Yes, I understand that. ISOBEL. You wouldn’t have married me and come to live with us all, as Marion and William have done? ROYCE. No, no, that’s death.