Waiter. (Earnestly.) Oh, if you please, ma’am, I really must draw the line at sitting down. I couldn’t let myself be seen doing such a thing, ma’am: thank you, I am sure, all the same.
(He looks round from face to face wretchedly, with an expression that would melt a heart of stone.)
Gloria. Don’t let us waste time. William only wants to go on taking care of us. I should like a cup of coffee.
Waiter. (Brightening perceptibly.) Coffee, miss? (He gives a little gasp of hope.) Certainly, miss. Thank you, miss: very timely, miss, very thoughtful and considerate indeed. (To Mrs. Clandon, timidly, but expectantly.) Anything for you, ma’am?
Mrs. Clandon. Er—oh, yes: it’s so hot, I think we might have a jug of claret cup.
Waiter. (Beaming.) Claret cup, ma’am! Certainly ma’am.
Gloria. Oh, well, I’ll have claret cup instead of coffee. Put some cucumber in it.
Waiter. (Delightedly.) Cucumber, miss! yes, miss. (To Bohun.) Anything special for you, sir? You don’t like cucumber, sir.
Bohun. If Mrs. Clandon will allow me—syphon, Scotch.