(To Mrs. Clandon, timidly but
expectantly.) Anything for you, ma'am?
MRS. CLANDON Er---oh, yes: it's so hot, I think we might have a jug
of claret cup.
WAITER (beaming). Claret cup, ma'am! Certainly, ma'am.
GLORIA Oh, well I'll have a claret cup instead of coffee. Put some
cucumber in it.
WAITER (delighted). Cucumber, miss! yes, miss. (To Bohun.)
Anything special for you, sir? You don't like cucumber, sir.
BOHUN. If Mrs. Clandon will allow me---syphon---Scotch.
WAITER. Right, sir. (To Crampton.) Irish for you, sir, I think,
sir? (Crampton assents with a grunt. The waiter looks enquiringly at
Valentine.)
VALENTINE. I like the cucumber.
WAITER. Right, sir. (Summing up.) Claret cup, syphon, one Scotch
and one Irish?
MRS. CLANDON. I think that's right.
WAITER (perfectly happy). Right, ma'am. Directly, ma'am. Thank
you. (He ambles off through the window, having sounded the whole gamut
of human happiness, from the bottom to the top, in a little over two
minutes.)
McCOMAS. We can begin now, I suppose?
BOHUN. We had better wait until Mrs. Clandon's husband arrives.
CRAMPTON. What d'y' mean? I'm her husband.
BOHUN (instantly pouncing on the inconsistency between this and his
previous statement). You said just now your name was Crampton.
CRAMPTON.
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