as its qualities; and Mr. Valentine seems rather too old fashioned in
his ideas about his own sex to like being called an idiot. And now had
we not better go and see what Dolly is doing? (She goes towards the
window. Valentine rises.)

GLORIA. Do you go, mother. I wish to speak to Mr. Valentine alone.

MRS. CLANDON (startled into a remonstrance). My dear! (Recollecting
herself.) I beg your pardon, Gloria. Certainly, if you wish. (She
bows to Valentine and goes out.)

VALENTINE. Oh, if your mother were only a widow! She's worth six of
you.

GLORIA. That is the first thing I have heard you say that does you
honor.

VALENTINE. Stuff! Come: say what you want to say and let me go.

GLORIA. I have only this to say. You dragged me down to your level
for a moment this afternoon. Do you think, if that had ever happened
before, that I should not have been on my guard---that I should not have
known what was coming, and known my own miserable weakness?

VALENTINE (scolding at her passionately). Don't talk of it in that
way. What do I care for anything in you but your weakness, as you call
it? You thought yourself very safe, didn't you, behind your advanced
ideas! I amused myself by upsetting t h e m pretty easily.

GLORIA (insolently, feeling that now she can do as she likes with