MRS. CLANDON. Five! I don't think we need wait any longer for the children. The are sure to get tea somewhere. GLORIA (wearily). Shall I ring? MRS. CLANDON. Do, my dear. (Gloria goes to the hearth and rings.) I have finished these proofs at last, thank goodness! GLORIA (strolling listlessly across the room and coming behind her mother's chair). What proofs? MRS. CLANDON The new edition of Twentieth Century Women. GLORIA (with a bitter smile). There's a chapter missing. MRS. CLANDON (beginning to hunt among her proofs). Is there? Surely not. GLORIA. I mean an unwritten one. Perhaps I shall write it for you--when I know the end of it. (She goes back to the window.) MRS. CLANDON. Gloria! More enigmas! GLORIA. Oh, no. The same enigma. MRS. CLANDON (puzzled and rather troubled; after watching her for a moment). My dear. GLORIA (returning). Yes. MRS. CLANDON. You know I never ask questions. GLORIA (kneeling beside her chair). I know, I know. (She suddenly throws her arms about her mother and embraces her almost passionately.) MRS. CLANDON. (gently, smiling but embarrassed). My dear: you are getting quite sentimental. GLORIA (recoiling). Ah, no, no. Oh, don't say that. Oh! (She rises and turns away with a gesture as if tearing herself.) MRS. CLANDON (mildly). My dear: what is the matter? What-- (The waiter enters with the tea tray.) WAITER (balmily). This was what you rang for, ma'am, I hope? MRS. CLANDON. Thank you, yes. (She turns her chair away from the writing table, and sits down again. Gloria crosses to the hearth and sits crouching there with her face averted.) WAITER (placing the tray temporarily on the centre table). I thought so, ma'am. Curious how the nerves seem to give out in the afternoon without a cup of tea. (He fetches the tea table and places it in front of Mrs. Cladon, conversing meanwhile.) the young lady and gentleman have just come back, ma'am: they have been out in a boat, ma'am. Very pleasant on a fine afternoon like this--very pleasant and invigorating indeed. (He takes the tray from the centre table and puts it on the tea table.) Mr. McComas will not come to tea, ma'am: he has gone to call upon Mr. Crampton. (He takes a couple of chairs and sets one at each end of the tea table.) GLORIA (looking round with an impulse of terror). And the other gentleman? WAITER (reassuringly, as he unconsciously drops for a moment into the measure of "I've been roaming," which he sang as a boy.) Oh, he's coming, miss, he's coming. He has been rowing the boat, miss, and has just run down the road to the chemist's for something to put on the blisters. But he will be here directly, miss--directly. (Gloria, in ungovernable apprehension, rises and hurries towards the door.) MRS. CLANDON. (half rising). Glo-- (Gloria goes out. Mrs. Clandon looks perplexedly at the waiter, whose composure is unruffled.) WAITER (cheerfully). Anything more, ma'am? MRS. CLANDON. Nothing, thank you.