pretends to read it. Philip abandons it to him with perfect
politeness.)

DOLLY (looking over Crampton's right shoulder). The whisky's on the
last page but one.

CRAMPTON. Let me alone, child.

DOLLY. Child! No, no: you may call me Dolly if you like; but you
mustn't call me child. (She slips her arm through Philip's; and the two
stand looking at Crampton as if he were some eccentric stranger.)

CRAMPTON (mopping his brow in rage and agony, and yet relieved even
by their playing with him). McComas: we are--ha!--going to have a
pleasant meal.

McCOMAS (pusillanimously). There is no reason why it should not be
pleasant. (He looks abjectly gloomy.)

PHILIP. Finch's face is a feast in itself. (Mrs. Clandon and Gloria
come from the hotel. Mrs. Clandon advances with courageous self-
possession and marked dignity of manner. She stops at the foot of the
steps to address Valentine, who is in her path. Gloria also stops,
looking at Crampton with a certain repulsion.)

MRS. CLANDON. Glad to see you again, Mr. Valentine. (He smiles.
She passes on and confronts Crampton, intending to address him with
perfect composure; but his aspect shakes her. She stops suddenly and
says anxiously, with a touch of remorse.) Fergus: you are greatly
changed.