VALENTINE. Oh, don't, Gloria, don't. (He kneels at her feet.)
GLORIA. Get up. Get up! How dare you? (Phil and Dolly, racing, as usual, for first place, burst into the room. They check themselves on seeing what is passing. Valentine springs up.)
PHILIP (discreetly). I beg your pardon. Come, Dolly. (He turns to go.)
GLORIA (annoyed). Mother will be back in a moment, Phil. (Severely.) Please wait here for her. (She turns away to the window, where she stands looking out with her back to them.)
PHILIP (significantly). Oh, indeed. Hmhm!
DOLLY. Ahah!
PHILIP. You seem in excellent spirits, Valentine.
VALENTINE. I am. (Comes between them.) Now look here. You both know what's going on, don't you? (Gloria turns quickly, as if anticipating some fresh outrage.)
DOLLY. Perfectly.
VALENTINE. Well, it's all over. I've been refused—scorned. I'm only here on sufferance. You understand: it's all over. Your sister is in no sense entertaining my addresses, or condescending to interest herself in me in any way. (Gloria, satisfied, turns back contemptuously to the window.) Is that clear?