DOLLY (sympathetically). Tooth bad?
CRAMPTON. No, no: nothing. A twinge of memory, Miss Clandon, not of toothache.
DOLLY. Have it out. "Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow:" with gas, five shillings extra.
CRAMPTON (vindictively). No, not a sorrow. An injury that was done me once: that's all. I don't forget injuries; and I don't want to forget them. (His features settle into an implacable frown.)
(re-enter Philip: to look for Dolly. He comes down behind her unobserved.)
DOLLY (looking critically at Crampton's expression). I don't think we shall like you when you are brooding over your sorrows.
PHILIP (who has entered the room unobserved, and stolen behind her). My sister means well, Mr. Crampton: but she is indiscreet. Now Dolly, outside! (He takes her towards the door.)
DOLLY (in a perfectly audible undertone). He says he's only fifty-seven; and he thinks me the image of his mother; and he hates his daughter; and— (She is interrupted by the return of Valentine.)
VALENTINE. Miss Clandon has gone on.
PHILIP. Don't forget half past one.