WAITER.We get on together very well, very well indeed, sir, considering the difference in our stations.(With another of his irresistible transitions.) A small lump of sugar, sir, will take the flatness out of the seltzer without noticeably sweetening the drink, sir.Allow me, sir.(He drops a lump of sugar into the tumbler.) But as I say to him, where's the difference after all? If I must put on a dress coat to show what I am, sir, he must put on a wig and gown to show what he is.If my income is mostly tips, and there's a pretence that Idon't get them, why, his income is mostly fees, sir; and I understand there's a pretence that he don't get them! If he likes society, and his profession brings him into contact with all ranks, so does mine, too, sir.If it's a little against a barrister to have a waiter for his father, sir, it's a little against a waiter to have a barrister for a son: many people consider it a great liberty, sir, I assure you, sir.
Can I get you anything else, sir?
CRAMPTON.No, thank you.(With bitter humility.) I suppose that's no objection to my sitting here for a while: I can't disturb the party on the beach here.
WAITER (with emotion).Very kind of you, sir, to put it as if it was not a compliment and an honour to us, Mr.Crampton, very kind indeed.
The more you are at home here, sir, the better for us.
CRAMPTON (in poignant irony).Home!
WAITER (reflectively).Well, yes, sir: that's a way of looking at it, too, sir.I have always said that the great advantage of a hotel is that it's a refuge from home life, sir.
CRAMPTON.I missed that advantage to-day, I think.
WAITER.You did, sir, you did.Dear me! It's the unexpected that always happens, isn't it? (Shaking his head.) You never can tell, sir:
you never can tell.(He goes into the hotel.)CRAMPTON (his eyes shining hardly as he props his drawn, miserable face on his hands).Home! Home!! (He drops his arms on the table and bows his head on them, but presently hears someone approaching and hastily sits bolt upright.It is Gloria, who has come up the steps alone, with her sunshade and her book in her hands.He looks defiantly at her, with the brutal obstinacy of his mouth and the wistfulness of his eyes contradicting each other pathetically.She comes to the corner of the garden seat and stands with her back to it, leaning against the end of it, and looking down at him as if wondering at his weakness: too curious about him to be cold, but supremely indifferent to their kinship.) Well?
GLORIA.I want to speak with you for a moment.
CRAMPTON (looking steadily at her).Indeed? That's surprising.You meet your father after eighteen years; and you actually want to speak to him for a moment! That's touching: isn't it? (He rests his head on his hands, and looks down and away from her, in gloomy reflection.)GLORIA.All that is what seems to me so nonsensical, so uncalled for.What do you expect us to feel for you---to do for you? What is it you want? Why are you less civil to us than other people are? You are evidently not very fond of us---why should you be? But surely we can meet without quarrelling.
CRAMPTON (a dreadful grey shade passing over his face).Do you realize that I am your father?
GLORIA.Perfectly.
CRAMPTON.Do you know what is due to me as your father?
GLORIA.For instance----?
CRAMPTON (rising as if to combat a monster).For instance! For instance!! For instance, duty, affection, respect, obedience---GLORIA (quitting her careless leaning attitude and confronting him promptly and proudly).I obey nothing but my sense of what is right.Irespect nothing that is not noble.That is my duty.(She adds, less firmly) As to affection, it is not within my control.I am not sure that I quite know what affection means.(She turns away with an evident distaste for that part of the subject, and goes to the luncheon table for a comfortable chair, putting down her book and sunshade.)CRAMPTON (following her with his eyes).Do you really mean what you are saying?
GLORIA (turning on him quickly and severely).Excuse me: that is an uncivil question.I am speaking seriously to you; and I expect you to take me seriously.(She takes one of the luncheon chairs; turns it away from the table; and sits down a little wearily, saying) Can you not discuss this matter coolly and rationally?
CRAMPTON.Coolly and rationally! No, I can't.Do you understand that? I can't.
GLORIA (emphatically).No.That I c a n n o t understand.I have no sympathy with---CRAMPTON (shrinking nervously).Stop! Don't say anything more yet;you don't know what you're doing.Do you want to drive me mad? (She frowns, finding such petulance intolerable.He adds hastily) No: I'm not angry: indeed I'm not.Wait, wait: give me a little time to think.
(He stands for a moment, screwing and clinching his brows and hands in his perplexity; then takes the end chair from the luncheon table and sits down beside her, saying, with a touching effort to be gentle and patient) Now, I think I have it.At least I'll try.
GLORIA (firmly).You see! Everything comes right if we only think it resolutely out.
CRAMPTON (in sudden dread).No: don't think.I want you to feel:
that's the only thing that can help us.Listen! Do you---but first---Iforgot.What's your name? I mean you pet name.They can't very well call you Sophronia.
GLORIA (with astonished disgust).Sophronia! My name is Gloria.Iam always called by it.
CRAMPTON (his temper rising again).Your name is Sophronia, girl:
you were called after your aunt Sophronia, my sister: she gave you your first Bible with your name written in it.
GLORIA.Then my mother gave me a new name.
CRAMPTON (angrily).She had no right to do it.I will not allow this.
GLORIA.You had no right to give me your sister's name.I don't know her.
CRAMPTON.You're talking nonsense.There are bounds to what I will put up with.I will not have it.Do you hear that?
GLORIA (rising warningly).Are you resolved to quarrel?
