Come, Crampton: never mind. She's
her father's daughter: that's all.
MRS. CLANDON (with deep resentment). I hope not, Finch. (She rises:
they all rise a little.) Mr. Valentine: will you excuse me: I am afraid
Dolly is hurt and put out by what has passed. I must go to her.
CRAMPTON. To take her part against me, you mean.
MRS. CLANDON (ignoring him). Gloria: will you take my place whilst I
am away, dear. (She crosses to the steps. Crampton's eyes follow her
with bitter hatred. The rest watch her in embarrassed silence, feeling
the incident to be a very painful one.)
WAITER (intercepting her at the top of the steps and offering her a
box of vestas). Young lady forgot the matches, ma'am. If you would be
so good, ma'am.
MRS. CLANDON (surprised into grateful politeness by the witchery of
his sweet and cheerful tones). Thank you very much. (She takes the
matches and goes down to the beach. The waiter shepherds his assistant
along with him into the hotel by the kitchen entrance, leaving the
luncheon party to themselves.)
CRAMPTON (throwing himself back in his chair). There's a mother for
you, McComas! There's a mother for you!
GLORIA (steadfastly). Yes: a good mother.
CRAMPTON. And a bad father? That's what you mean, eh?
VALENTINE (rising indignantly and addressing Gloria).
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