Oh!
GLORIA (to Mrs. Clandon, with contemptuous self-possession). Do you
think I need to be warned now? (To Valentine.) You have tried to make
me love you.
VALENTINE. I have.
GLORIA. Well, you have succeeded in making me hate you---
passionately.
VALENTINE (philosophically). It's surprising how little difference
there is between the two. (Gloria turns indignantly away from him. He
continues, to Mrs. Clandon) I know men whose wives love them; and they
go on exactly like that.
MRS. CLANDON. Excuse me, Mr. Valentine; but had you not better go?
GLORIA. You need not send him away on my account, mother. He is
nothing to me now; and he will amuse Dolly and Phil. (She sits down
with slighting indifference, at the end of the table nearest the
window.)
VALENTINE (gaily). Of course: that's the sensible way of looking at
it. Come, Mrs. Clandon: you can't quarrel with a mere butterfly like
me.
MRS. CLANDON. I very greatly mistrust you, Mr. Valentine. But I do
not like to think that your unfortunate levity of disposition is mere
shamelessness and worthlessness;---
GLORIA (to herself, but aloud). It is shameless; and it is
worthless.
MRS. CLANDON. ---so perhaps we had better send for Phil and Dolly
and allow you to end your visit in the ordinary way.
VALENTINE (as if she had paid him the highest compliment).
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