a shrewd man; and there is no sign of straitened means or commercial
diffidence about him: he is well dressed, and would be classed at a
guess as a prosperous master manufacturer in a business inherited from
an old family in the aristocracy of trade. His navy blue coat is not of
the usual fashionable pattern. It is not exactly a pilot's coat; but it
is cut that way, double breasted, and with stout buttons and broad
lappels, a coat for a shipyard rather than a counting house. He has
taken a fancy to Valentine, who cares nothing for his crossness of grain
and treats him with a sort of disrespectful humanity, for which he is
secretly grateful.)

VALENTINE. May I introduce---this is Mr. Crampton---Miss Dorothy
Clandon, Mr. Philip Clandon, Miss Clandon. (Crampton stands nervously
bowing. They all bow.) Sit down, Mr. Crampton.

DOLLY (pointing to the operating chair). That is the most
comfortable chair, Mr. Ch--crampton.

CRAMPTON. Thank you; but won't this young lady---(indicating Gloria,
who is close to the chair)?

GLORIA. Thank you, Mr. Crampton: we are just going.

VALENTINE (bustling him across to the chair with good-humored
peremptoriness). Sit down, sit down. You're tired.

CRAMPTON. Well, perhaps as I am considerably the oldest person
present, I--- (He finishes the sentence by sitting down a little
rheumatically in the operating chair. Meanwhile, Philip, having studied
him critically during his passage across the room, nods to Dolly; and