ISOBEL. Oh! (_She is silent, looking at WILLIAM wonderingly, almost admiringly._) WILLIAM (_after waiting for her comment_). Well? ISOBEL. What can I say, William, except again how nice it will be? No scandal, no poverty, no fuss, and his life in two volumes just as before. We are a little too late for the Abbey, but, apart from that, everything is as nice as it can be. WILLIAM (_solemnly_). You have not mentioned the best thing of all, Isobel. ISOBEL. What? WILLIAM (_looking up reverently at the picture_). That our faith in him has not been misplaced. (_She wonders at him, not knowing whether to laugh or to cry._) ISOBEL. Oh!... oh!... (_But there are no words available._) _MARION comes in._ MARION (_excitedly_). Isobel, dear, have you heard? Have you heard the wonderful news? ISOBEL (_turning to her blankly_). News? MARION. About the hallucination. I always felt that there must have been some mistake. And now our faith has been justified—as faith always is. It’s such a comfort to know. Really to know at last. Poor dear Grandfather! He was so very old. I think sometimes we forget how very old he was. And the excitement of that last day—his birthday—and perhaps the glass of port. No wonder. WILLIAM (_shaking his head wisely_). Very strange, very strange, but, as you say, not unexpected. One might almost have predicated some such end. MARION. I shall never forgive myself for having doubted. (_To ISOBEL_) I think Grandfather will forgive us, dear. I can’t help feeling that wherever he is, he will forgive us. WILLIAM (_nodding_). Yes, yes.... I shall say nothing about it in the book, of course—this curious lapse in his faculties at the last. MARION. Of course not, dear. WILLIAM. I shall merely—— ISOBEL. Then you won’t want that pass-book now? MARION. Pass-book? ISOBEL. Yes. You were going into the accounts, weren’t you, to see how much—— WILLIAM. Oh—ah—yes, the Jenkins Fund. MARION. But of course there is no Jenkins now! So there can’t be a Jenkins Fund. Such a comfort from every point of view. ISOBEL (_to WILLIAM_). You’re quite happy about the money, then? WILLIAM (_who obviously isn’t_). Er—yes—I.... That is to say, that, while absolutely satisfied that this man Jenkins never existed, I—at the same time—I—well, perhaps to be on the safe side—there are certain charities.... As I say, there _are_ certain charities for distressed writers, and so on, and perhaps one would feel—you see what I mean. (_He goes to the desk._) ISOBEL. Yes. It’s what they call conscience-money, isn’t it? WILLIAM. But of course all that can be settled later. (_He picks up ROYCE’S statement._) The main point is that this will not now be wanted. (_He prepares to tear it in two._) ISOBEL (_fiercely_). No! Put that down! (_Startled he puts it down, and she snatches it up and holds it close to her heart._) MARION. Isobel, dear!