CRAMPTON. Stop; or you'll be sorry afterwards. I'm your father.

GLORIA. How I hate the name! How I love the name of mother! You
had better go.

CRAMPTON. I---I'm choking. You want to kill me. Some---I--- (His
voice stifles: he is almost in a fit.)

GLORIA (going up to the balustrade with cool, quick resourcefulness,
and calling over to the beach). Mr. Valentine!

VALENTINE (answering from below). Yes.

GLORIA. Come here a moment, please. Mr. Crampton wants you. (She
returns to the table and pours out a glass of water.)

CRAMPTON (recovering his speech). No: let me alone. I don't want
him. I'm all right, I tell you. I need neither his help nor yours.
(He rises and pulls himself together.) As you say, I had better go.
(He puts on his hat.) Is that your last word?

GLORIA. I hope so. (He looks stubbornly at her for a moment; nods
grimly, as if he agreed to that; and goes into the hotel. She looks at
him with equal steadiness until he disappears, when she makes a gesture
of relief, and turns to speak to Valentine, who comes running up the
steps.)

VALENTINE (panting). What's the matter? (Looking round.) Where's
Crampton?