Quite right, mamma: bring him to book. Make the most of the
nineteenth century while it lasts.
PHILIP. Sh! Here he is. (Valentine comes in.)
VALENTINE Very sorry to be late for tea, Mrs. Clandon. (She takes
up the tea-pot.) No, thank you: I never take any. No doubt Miss Dolly
and Phil have explained what happened to me.
PHILIP (momentously rising). Yes, Valentine: we have explained.
DOLLY (significantly, also rising). We have explained very
thoroughly.
PHILIP. It was our duty. (Very seriously.) Come, Dolly. (He
offers Dolly his arm, which she takes. They look sadly at him, and go
out gravely, arm in arm. Valentine stares after them, puzzled; then
looks at Mrs. Clandon for an explanation.)
MRS. CLANDON (rising and leaving the tea table). Will you sit down,
Mr. Valentine. I want to speak to you a little, if you will allow me.
(Valentine sits down slowly on the ottoman, his conscience presaging a
bad quarter of an hour. Mrs. Clandon takes Phil's chair, and seats
herself deliberately at a convenient distance from him.) I must begin
by throwing myself somewhat at your consideration. I am going to speak
of a subject of which I know very little---perhaps nothing. I mean
love.
VALENTINE. Love!
MRS. CLANDON. Yes, love. Oh, you need not look so alarmed as that,
Mr. Valentine: I am not in love with you.
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