Tooth bad?
CRAMPTON. No, no: nothing. A twinge of memory, Miss Clandon, not of
toothache.
DOLLY. Have it out. "Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow:" with
gas, five shillings extra.
CRAMPTON (vindicatively). No, not a sorrow. An injury that was done
me once: that's all. I don't forget injuries; and I don't want to
forget them. (His features settle into an implacable frown.)
(re-enter Philip: to look for Dolly. He comes down behind her
unobserved.)
DOLLY (looking critically at Crampton's expression). I don't think
we shall like you when you are brooding over your sorrows.
PHILIP (who has entered the room unobserved, and stolen behind her).
My sister means well, Mr. Crampton: but she is indiscreet. Now Dolly,
outside! (He takes her towards the door.)
DOLLY (in a perfectly audible undertone). He says he's only fifty-
seven; and he thinks me the image of his mother; and he hates his
daughter; and--- (She is interrupted by the return of Valentine.)
VALENTINE. Miss Clandon has gone on.
PHILIP. Don't forget half past one.
DOLLY. Mind you leave Mr. Crampton with enough teeth to eat with.
(They go out. Valentine comes down to his cabinet, and opens it.)
CRAMPTON. That's a spoiled child, Mr. Valentine. That's one of your
modern products. When I was her age, I had many a good hiding fresh in
my memory to teach me manners.
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