The Clandon's sitting room in the hotel.An expensive apartment on the ground floor, with a French window leading to the gardens.In the centre of the room is a substantial table, surrounded by chairs, and draped with a maroon cloth on which opulently bound hotel and railway guides are displayed.A visitor entering through the window and coming down to this central table would have the fireplace on his left, and a writing table against the wall on his right, next the door, which is further down.He would, if his taste lay that way, admire the wall decoration of Lincrusta Walton in plum color and bronze lacquer, with dado and cornice; the ormolu consoles in the corners; the vases on pillar pedestals of veined marble with bases of polished black wood, one on each side of the window; the ornamental cabinet next the vase on the side nearest the fireplace, its centre compartment closed by an inlaid door, and its corners rounded off with curved panes of glass protecting shelves of cheap blue and white pottery; the bamboo tea table, with folding shelves, in the corresponding space on the other side of the window; the pictures of ocean steamers and Landseer's dogs; the saddlebag ottoman in line with the door but on the other side of the room; the two comfortable seats of the same pattern on the hearthrug;and finally, on turning round and looking up, the massive brass pole above the window, sustaining a pair of maroon rep curtains with decorated borders of staid green.Altogether, a room well arranged to flatter the occupant's sense of importance, and reconcile him to a charge of a pound a day for its use.
Mrs.Clandon sits at the writing table, correcting proofs.Gloria is standing at the window, looking out in a tormented revery.
The clock on the mantelpiece strikes five with a sickly clink, the bell being unable to bear up against the black marble cenotaph in which it is immured.
MRS.CLANDON.Five! I don't think we need wait any longer for the children.The are sure to get tea somewhere.
GLORIA (wearily).Shall I ring?
MRS.CLANDON.Do, my dear.(Gloria goes to the hearth and rings.)I have finished these proofs at last, thank goodness!
GLORIA (strolling listlessly across the room and coming behind her mother's chair).What proofs?
MRS.CLANDON The new edition of Twentieth Century Women.
GLORIA (with a bitter smile).There's a chapter missing.
MRS.CLANDON (beginning to hunt among her proofs).Is there? Surely not.
GLORIA.I mean an unwritten one.Perhaps I shall write it for you---when I know the end of it.(She goes back to the window.)MRS.CLANDON.Gloria! More enigmas!
GLORIA.Oh, no.The same enigma.
MRS.CLANDON (puzzled and rather troubled; after watching her for a moment).My dear.
GLORIA (returning).Yes.
MRS.CLANDON.You know I never ask questions.
GLORIA (kneeling beside her chair).I know, I know.(She suddenly throws her arms about her mother and embraces her almost passionately.)MRS.CLANDON.(gently, smiling but embarrassed).My dear: you are getting quite sentimental GLORIA (recoiling).Ah, no, no.Oh, don't say that.Oh! (She rises and turns away with a gesture as if tearing herself.)MRS.CLANDON (mildly).My dear: what is the matter? What--- (The waiter enters with the tea tray.)WAITER (balmily).This was what you rang for, ma'am, I hope?
MRS.CLANDON.Thank you, yes.(She turns her chair away from the writing table, and sits down again.Gloria crosses to the hearth and sits crouching there with her face averted.)WAITER (placing the tray temporarily on the centre table).I thought so, ma'am.Curious how the nerves seem to give out in the afternoon without a cup of tea.(He fetches the tea table and places it in front of Mrs.Cladon, conversing meanwhile.) the young lady and gentleman have just come back, ma'am: they have been out in a boat, ma'am.Very pleasant on a fine afternoon like this---very pleasant and invigorating indeed.(He takes the tray from the centre table and puts it on the tea table.) Mr.McComas will not come to tea, ma'am: he has gone to call upon Mr.Crampton.(He takes a couple of chairs and sets one at each end of the tea table.)GLORIA (looking round with an impulse of terror).And the other gentleman?
WAITER (reassuringly, as he unconsciously drops for a moment into the measure of "I've been roaming," which he sang as a boy.) Oh, he's coming, miss, he's coming.He has been rowing the boat, miss, and has just run down the road to the chemist's for something to put on the blisters.But he will be here directly, miss---directly.(Gloria, in ungovernable apprehension, rises and hurries towards the door.)MRS.CLANDON.(half rising).Glo--- (Gloria goes out.Mrs.Clandon looks perplexedly at the waiter, whose composure is unruffled.)WAITER (cheerfully).Anything more, ma'am?
MRS.CLANDON.Nothing, thank you.
WAITER.Thank you, ma'am.(As he withdraws, Phil and Dolly, in the highest spirits, come tearing in.He holds the door open for them; then goes out and closes it.)DOLLY (ravenously).Oh, give me some tea.(Mrs.Clandon pours out a cup for her.) We've been out in a boat.Valentine will be here presently.
PHILIP.He is unaccustomed to navigation.Where's Gloria?
MRS.CLANDON (anxiously, as she pours out his tea).Phil: there is something the matter with Gloria.Has anything happened? (Phil and Dolly look at one another and stifle a laugh.) What is it?
PHILIP (sitting down on her left).Romeo---DOLLY (sitting down on her right).---and Juliet.
PHILIP (taking his cup of tea from Mrs.Clandon).Yes, my dear mother: the old, old story.Dolly: don't take all the milk.
(He deftly takes the jug from her.) Yes: in the spring---DOLLY.---a young man's fancy---
PHILIP.---lightly turns to---thank you (to Mrs.Clandon, who has passed the biscuits) ---thoughts of love.It also occurs in the autumn.
The young man in this case is---
DOLLY.Valentine.
PHILIP.And his fancy has turned to Gloria to the extent of---DOLLY.---kissing her---
PHILIP.---on the terrace---
