ROYCE. Isobel was quite right. I was too old for her. Look, I’m grey. And then I’ve got a bit of rheumatism about me somewhere—I really want a nurse. Isobel said you were a born nurse.... Isobel’s mother, will you marry me? ISOBEL. I’m afraid to. I shall be so jealous. ROYCE. Jealous! Of whom? ISOBEL. Of that girl we call my daughter. You will always be looking for her. You will think that I shan’t see; you will try to hide it from me; but I shall see. Always you will be looking for her—and I shall see. ROYCE. I shall find her. ISOBEL. No, it’s too late now. ROYCE (_confidently_). I shall find her. Not yet, perhaps; but some day. Perhaps it will be on a day in April, when the primroses are out between the wood-stacks, and there is a chatter of rooks in the tall elms. Then, a child again, she will laugh for joy of the clean blue morning, and I shall find her. And when I have found her, I shall say—— ISOBEL (_gently_). Yes? ROYCE. I shall say, “Thank God, you are so like your mother—whom I love.” ISOBEL. No, no, it can’t be true. ROYCE. It is true. (_Holding out his hands_) I want you—not her. ISOBEL. Oh, my dear! (_She puts out her hands to his. As he takes them, MARION comes in hurriedly. Their hands drop, and they stand there, looking happily at each other._) MARION. Isobel! I had to come and tell you how hurt William is. Dear, don’t you think you _could_ believe—just for William’s sake—— ISOBEL (_gently_). It’s all right, dear. I am not going to say anything. MARION (_eagerly_). You mean you believe? (_WILLIAM comes in, and she rushes to him_) She believes! She believes! (_ISOBEL and ROYCE exchange a smile._) WILLIAM (_with satisfaction_). Ah! I am very glad to hear this. As regards the biography. In the circumstances, since we are all agreed as to the facts, I almost think we might record the story of Oliver Blayds’ chivalrous attempt to assist his friend, definitely assigning to Willoughby Jenkins the 1863 volume. (_He looks at them for approval. MARION nods._) ISOBEL (_looking demurely at ROYCE and then back again_). Yes, William. WILLIAM. I feel strongly, and I am sure you will agree with me, that it is our duty to tell the _whole_ truth about that great man. (_Again he looks to MARION for approval. She assents._) ISOBEL (_aside to ROYCE—enjoying it with him_). Do I still say, “Yes, William”? (_He smiles and nods._) Yes, William. (_And so that is how the story will be handed down. But, as SEPTIMA says, the poetry will still be there._) _Printed in Great Britain by R. & R. Clark, Limited, Edinburgh._ Transcriber’s Note Inconsistent hyphenation (buttonhole/button-hole, Good morning/Good-morning, half-measures/half measures, postcard/post-card, runaway/run-away, safety-razor/safety razor) and inconsistent spelling (Hallo/Hullo) have been left as printed in the original. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Three Plays, by Alan Alexander Milne