OLIVER. Yes, but you’ve missed the whole point. The whole point is that I don’t _want_ to live in his house. Do you realise that I’ve never had a house I could call my own? I mean a house where I could ask people. I brought you along this afternoon because you’d got permission to come anyhow with that Address of yours. But I shouldn’t have dared to bring anybody else along from the club. Here we all are, and always have been, living not _our_ lives, but _his_ life. Because—well, just because he likes it so. ROYCE (_almost to himself_). Yes ... yes.... I know. OLIVER. Well! (_And there is so much conviction behind it that ROYCE has nothing to say. However, nothing is needed, for at this moment SEPTIMA BLAYDS-CONWAY comes in, a fair-haired nineteen-year-old modern, with no sentimental nonsense about her._) SEPTIMA. Hallo! OLIVER (_half getting out of his chair_). Hallo, Tim. Come and be introduced. This is Mr. A. L. Royce. My sister, Septima. ROYCE (_surprised_). Septima? (_Mechanically he quotes_): “Septima, seventh dark daughter; I saw her once where the black pines troop to the water— A rock-set river that broke into bottomless pools—” SEPTIMA. Thank you very much, Mr. Royce. (_Holding out her hand to OLIVER_) Noll, I’ll trouble you. OLIVER (_feeling in his pockets_). Damn! I did think, Royce—— (_He hands her a shilling_) Here you are. SEPTIMA. Thanks. Thank you again, Mr. Royce. ROYCE. I’m afraid I don’t understand. SEPTIMA. It’s quite simple. I get a shilling when visitors quote “Septima” at me, and Noll gets a shilling when they don’t. OLIVER (_reproachfully_). I did think that _you_ would be able to control yourself, Royce. ROYCE (_smiling_). Sorry! My only excuse is that I never met any one called Septima before, and that it came quite unconsciously. SEPTIMA. Oh, don’t apologise. I admire you immensely for it. It’s the only fun I get out of the name. OLIVER. Septima Blayds-Conway, when you’re the only daughter, and fair at that—I ask you. ROYCE (_defensively_). It’s a beautiful poem. SEPTIMA. Have you come to see Blayds the poet? ROYCE. Yes. OLIVER. One of the homage merchants. ROYCE. Miss Blayds-Conway, I appeal to you. SEPTIMA. Anything I can do in return for your shilling—— ROYCE. I have come here on behalf of some of my contemporaries, in order to acquaint that very great man Oliver Blayds with the feelings of admiration which we younger writers entertain for him. It appears now that not only is Blayds a great poet and a great philosopher, but also a—— OLIVER. Great-grandfather. ROYCE. But also a grandfather. Do you think you can persuade your brother that Blayds’ public reputation as a poet is in no way affected by his private reputation as a grandfather, and beg him to spare me any further revelations?