WAITER. Coming, sir.

McCOMAS (horrified). The waiter! Stop, stop! I will not permit
this. I---

WAITER (presenting himself between Philip and McComas). Yes, sir.
(McComas's complexion fades into stone grey; and all movement and
expression desert his eyes. He sits down stupefied.)

PHILIP. William: you remember my request to you to regard me as your
son?

WAITER (with respectful indulgence). Yes, sir. Anything you please,
sir.

PHILIP. William: at the very outset of your career as my father, a
rival has appeared on the scene.

WAITER. Your real father, sir? Well, that was to be expected,
sooner or later, sir, wasn't it? (Turning with a happy smile to
McComas.) Is it you, sir?

McCOMAS (renerved by indignation). Certainly not. My children know
how to behave themselves.

PHILIP. No, William: this gentleman was very nearly my father: he
wooed my mother, but wooed her in vain.

McCOMAS (outraged). Well, of all the---