CRAMPTON. You're talking nonsense. There are bounds to what I will put up with. I will not have it. Do you hear that? GLORIA (rising warningly). Are you resolved to quarrel? CRAMPTON (terrified, pleading). No, no: sit down. Sit down, won't you? (She looks at him, keeping him in suspense. He forces himself to utter the obnoxious name.) Gloria. (She marks her satisfaction with a slight tightening of the lips, and sits down.) There! You see I only want to shew you that I am your father, my--my dear child. (The endearment is so plaintively inept that she smiles in spite of herself, and resigns herself to indulge him a little.) Listen now. What I want to ask you is this. Don't you remember me at all? You were only a tiny child when you were taken away from me; but you took plenty of notice of things. Can't you remember someone whom you loved, or (shyly) at least liked in a childish way? Come! someone who let you stay in his study and look at his toy boats, as you thought them? (He looks anxiously into her face for some response, and continues less hopefully and more urgently) Someone who let you do as you liked there and never said a word to you except to tell you that you must sit still and not speak? Someone who was something that no one else was to you--who was your father. GLORIA (unmoved). If you describe things to me, no doubt I shall presently imagine that I remember them. But I really remember nothing. CRAMPTON (wistfully). Has your mother never told you anything about me? GLORIA. She has never mentioned your name to me. (He groans involuntarily. She looks at him rather contemptuously and continues) Except once; and then she did remind me of something I had forgotten. CRAMPTON (looking up hopefully). What was that? GLORIA (mercilessly). The whip you bought to beat me with. CRAMPTON (gnashing his teeth). Oh! To bring that up against me! To turn from me! When you need never have known. (Under a grinding, agonized breath.) Curse her! GLORIA (springing up). You wretch! (With intense emphasis.) You wretch!! You dare curse my mother! 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?