GLORIA. All that is what seems to me so nonsensical, so uncalled for. What do you expect us to feel for you--to do for you? What is it you want? Why are you less civil to us than other people are? You are evidently not very fond of us--why should you be? But surely we can meet without quarrelling. CRAMPTON (a dreadful grey shade passing over his face). Do you realize that I am your father? GLORIA. Perfectly. CRAMPTON. Do you know what is due to me as your father? GLORIA. For instance---? CRAMPTON (rising as if to combat a monster). For instance! For instance!! For instance, duty, affection, respect, obedience-- GLORIA (quitting her careless leaning attitude and confronting him promptly and proudly). I obey nothing but my sense of what is right. I respect nothing that is not noble. That is my duty. (She adds, less firmly) As to affection, it is not within my control. I am not sure that I quite know what affection means. (She turns away with an evident distaste for that part of the subject, and goes to the luncheon table for a comfortable chair, putting down her book and sunshade.) CRAMPTON (following her with his eyes). Do you really mean what you are saying? GLORIA (turning on him quickly and severely). Excuse me: that is an uncivil question. I am speaking seriously to you; and I expect you to take me seriously. (She takes one of the luncheon chairs; turns it away from the table; and sits down a little wearily, saying) Can you not discuss this matter coolly and rationally? CRAMPTON. Coolly and rationally! No, I can't. Do you understand that? I can't. GLORIA (emphatically). No. That I c a n n o t understand. I have no sympathy with-- CRAMPTON (shrinking nervously). Stop! Don't say anything more yet; you don't know what you're doing. Do you want to drive me mad? (She frowns, finding such petulance intolerable. He adds hastily) No: I'm not angry: indeed I'm not. Wait, wait: give me a little time to think. (He stands for a moment, screwing and clinching his brows and hands in his perplexity; then takes the end chair from the luncheon table and sits down beside her, saying, with a touching effort to be gentle and patient) Now, I think I have it. At least I'll try. GLORIA (firmly). You see! Everything comes right if we only think it resolutely out. CRAMPTON (in sudden dread). No: don't think. I want you to feel: that's the only thing that can help us. Listen! Do you--but first--I forgot. What's your name? I mean you pet name. They can't very well call you Sophronia. GLORIA (with astonished disgust). Sophronia! My name is Gloria. I am always called by it. CRAMPTON (his temper rising again). Your name is Sophronia, girl: you were called after your aunt Sophronia, my sister: she gave you your first Bible with your name written in it. GLORIA. Then my mother gave me a new name. CRAMPTON (angrily). She had no right to do it. I will not allow this. GLORIA. You had no right to give me your sister's name. I don't know her.