DOLLY (losing her temper). Now look here, Mr. Crampton. If you think-- WAITER (softly, at her elbow). Stone ginger, miss. DOLLY (taken aback, recovers her good humor after a long breath and says sweetly). Thank you, dear William. You were just in time. (She drinks.) McCOMAS (making a fresh effort to lead the conversation into dispassionate regions). If I may be allowed to change the subject, Miss Clandon, what is the established religion in Madeira? GLORIA. I suppose the Portuguese religion. I never inquired. DOLLY. The servants come in Lent and kneel down before you and confess all the things they've done: and you have to pretend to forgive them. Do they do that in England, William? WAITER. Not usually, miss. They may in some parts: but it has not come under my notice, miss. (Catching Mrs. Clandon's eye as the young waiter offers her the salad bowl.) You like it without dressing, ma'am: yes, ma'am, I have some for you. (To his young colleague, motioning him to serve Gloria.) This side, Jo. (He takes a special portion of salad from the service table and puts it beside Mrs. Clandon's plate. In doing so he observes that Dolly is making a wry face.) Only a bit of watercress, miss, got in by mistake. (He takes her salad away.) Thank you, miss. (To the young waiter, admonishing him to serve Dolly afresh.) Jo. (Resuming.) Mostly members of the Church of England, miss. DOLLY. Members of the Church of England! What's the subscription? CRAMPTON (rising violently amid general consternation). You see how my children have been brought up, McComas. You see it; you hear it. I call all of you to witness-- (He becomes inarticulate, and is about to strike his fist recklessly on the table when the waiter considerately takes away his plate.) MRS. CLANDON (firmly). Sit down, Fergus. There is no occasion at all for this outburst. You must remember that Dolly is just like a foreigner here. Pray sit down. CRAMPTON (subsiding unwillingly). I doubt whether I ought to sit here and countenance all this. I doubt it. WAITER. Cheese, sir; or would you like a cold sweet? CRAMPTON (take aback). What? Oh!--cheese, cheese. DOLLY. Bring a box of cigarettes, William. WAITER. All ready, miss. (He takes a box of cigarettes from the service table and places them before Dolly, who selects one and prepares to smoke. He then returns to his table for a box of vestas.) CRAMPTON (staring aghast at Dolly). Does she smoke? DOLLY (out of patience). Really, Mr. Crampton, I'm afraid I'm spoiling your lunch. I'll go and have my cigarette on the beach. (She leaves the table with petulant suddenness and goes down the steps. The waiter attempts to give her the matches; but she is gone before he can reach her.) CRAMPTON (furiously). Margaret: call that girl back. Call her back, I say. McCOMAS (trying to make peace). Come, Crampton: never mind. She's her father's daughter: that's all.