McCOMAS (firmly). Apollinaris only. I prefer to take nothing heating. (He walks away to the side of the terrace, like a man putting temptation behind him.) PHILIP. Valentine--? VALENTINE. Would Lager be considered vulgar? PHILIP. Probably. We'll order some. Dolly takes it. (Turning to Crampton with cheerful politeness.) And now, Mr. Crampton, what can we do for you? CRAMPTON. What d'ye mean, boy? PHILIP. Boy! (Very solemnly.) Whose fault is it that I am a boy? (Crampton snatches the wine list rudely from him and irresolutely 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. CRAMPTON (grimly). I daresay. A man does change in eighteen years. MRS. CLANDON (troubled). I--I did not mean that. I hope your health is good. CRAMPTON. Thank you. No: it's not my health. It's my happiness: that's the change you meant, I think. (Breaking out suddenly.) Look at her, McComas! Look at her; and look at me! (He utters a half laugh, half sob.) PHILIP. Sh! (Pointing to the hotel entrance, where the waiter has just appeared.) Order before William! DOLLY (touching Crampton's arm warningly with her finger). Ahem! (The waiter goes to the service table and beckons to the kitchen entrance, whence issue a young waiter with soup plates, and a cook, in white apron and cap, with the soup tureen. The young waiter remains and serves: the cook goes out, and reappears from time to time bringing in the courses. He carves, but does not serve. The waiter comes to the end of the luncheon table next the steps.) MRS. CLANDON (as they all assemble about the table). I think you have all met one another already to-day. Oh, no, excuse me. (Introducing) Mr. Valentine: Mr. McComas. (She goes to the end of the table nearest the hotel.) Fergus: will you take the head of the table, please.