McCOMAS. I am thoroughly vexed and hurt, Mr. Clandon—
PHILIP (interrupting him). You will get used to us. Come, Dolly. (McComas shakes him off and marches into the hotel. Philip follows with unruffled composure.)
DOLLY (turning for a moment on the steps as she follows them). Keep your wits about you, William. There will be fire-works.
WAITER. Right, miss. You may depend on me, miss. (She goes into the hotel.)
(Valentine comes lightly up the steps from the beach, followed doggedly by Crampton. Valentine carries a walking stick. Crampton, either because he is old and chilly, or with some idea of extenuating the unfashionableness of his reefer jacket, wears a light overcoat. He stops at the chair left by McComas in the middle of the terrace, and steadies himself for a moment by placing his hand on the back of it.)
CRAMPTON. Those steps make me giddy. (He passes his hand over his forehead.) I have not got over that infernal gas yet.
(He goes to the iron chair, so that he can lean his elbows on the little table to prop his head as he sits. He soon recovers, and begins to unbutton his overcoat. Meanwhile Valentine interviews the waiter.)
VALENTINE. Waiter!
WAITER (coming forward between them). Yes, sir.
VALENTINE. Mrs. Lanfrey Clandon.