DOLLY Oh, Finch is no good at telling things. Look at the mess he has made of telling us.
McCOMAS. I have not been allowed to speak. I protest against this.
DOLLY (taking his arm coaxingly). Dear Finch: don't be cross.
MRS. CLANDON. Gloria: let us go in. He may arrive at any moment.
GLORIA (proudly). Do not stir, mother. I shall not stir. We must not run away.
MRS. CLANDON (delicately rebuking her). My dear: we cannot sit down to lunch just as we are. We shall come back again. We must have no bravado. (Gloria winces, and goes into the hotel without a word.) Come, Dolly. (As she goes into the hotel door, the waiter comes out with plates, etc., for two additional covers on a tray.)
WAITER. Gentlemen come yet, ma'am?
MRS. CLANDON. Two more to come yet, thank you. They will be here, immediately. (She goes into the hotel. The waiter takes his tray to the service table.)
PHILIP. I have an idea. Mr. McComas: this communication should be made, should it not, by a man of infinite tact?
McCOMAS. It will require tact, certainly.