maniac.

CRAMPTON (heartrent). She told you what I am---a father---a father
robbed of his children. What are the hearts of this generation like?
Am I to come here after all these years---to see what my children are
for the first time! to hear their voices!---and carry it all off like a
fashionable visitor; drop in to lunch; be Mr. Crampton---M i s t e r
Crampton! What right have they to talk to me like that? I'm their
father: do they deny that? I'm a man, with the feelings of our common
humanity: have I no rights, no claims? In all these years who have I
had round me? Servants, clerks, business acquaintances. I've had
respect from them---aye, kindness. Would one of them have spoken to me
as that girl spoke?---would one of them have laughed at me as that boy
was laughing at me all the time? (Frantically.) My own children!
M i s t e r Crampton! My---

VALENTINE. Come, come: they're only children. The only one of them
that's worth anything called you father.

CRAMPTON (wildly). Yes: "good-bye, father." Oh, yes: she got at my
feelings---with a stab!

VALENTINE (taking this in very bad part). Now look here, Crampton:
you just let her alone: she's treated you very well. I had a much worse
time of it at lunch than you.

CRAMPTON. You!

VALENTINE (with growing impetuosity). Yes: I. I sat next to her;
and I never said a single thing to her the whole time---couldn't think