MRS. CLANDON (her agitation returning). Stop, Phil. Your father is nothing to you, nor to me (vehemently). That is enough. (The twins are silenced, but not satisfied. Their faces fall. But Gloria, who has been following the altercation attentively, suddenly intervenes.)
GLORIA (advancing). Mother: we have a right to know.
MRS. CLANDON (rising and facing her). Gloria! “We!” Who is “we”?
GLORIA (steadfastly). We three. (Her tone is unmistakable: she is pitting her strength against her mother for the first time. The twins instantly go over to the enemy.)
MRS. CLANDON (wounded). In your mouth “we” used to mean you and I, Gloria.
PHILIP (rising decisively and putting away the stool). We’re hurting you: let’s drop it. We didn’t think you’d mind. I don’t want to know.
DOLLY (coming off the table). I’m sure I don’t. Oh, don’t look like that, mamma. (She looks angrily at Gloria.)
MRS. CLANDON (touching her eyes hastily with her handkerchief and sitting down again). Thank you, my dear. Thanks, Phil.
GLORIA (inexorably). We have a right to know, mother.
MRS. CLANDON (indignantly). Ah! You insist.
GLORIA. Do you intend that we shall never know?
DOLLY. Oh, Gloria, don’t. It’s barbarous.
GLORIA (with quiet scorn). What is the use of being weak? You see what has happened with this gentleman here, mother. The same thing has happened to me.
MRS. CLANDON } (all { What do you mean?
DOLLY } together). { Oh, tell us.
PHILIP } { What happened to you?
GLORIA. Oh, nothing of any consequence. (She turns away from them and goes up to the easy chair at the fireplace, where she sits down, almost with her back to them. As they wait expectantly, she adds, over her shoulder, with studied indifference.) On board the steamer the first officer did me the honor to propose to me.
DOLLY. No, it was to me.
MRS. CLANDON. The first officer! Are you serious, Gloria? What did you say to him? (correcting herself) Excuse me: I have no right to ask that.
GLORIA. The answer is pretty obvious. A woman who does not know who her father was cannot accept such an offer.
MRS. CLANDON. Surely you did not want to accept it?
GLORIA (turning a little and raising her voice). No; but suppose I had wanted to!
PHILIP. Did that difficulty strike you, Dolly?
DOLLY. No, I accepted him.
GLORIA } (all crying { Accepted him!
MRS. CLANDON } out { Dolly!
PHILIP } together) { Oh, I say!
DOLLY (naively). He did look such a fool!
MRS. CLANDON. But why did you do such a thing, Dolly?
DOLLY. For fun, I suppose. He had to measure my finger for a ring. You’d have done the same thing yourself.
MRS. CLANDON. No, Dolly, I would not. As a matter of fact the first officer did propose to me; and I told him to keep that sort of thing for women were young enough to be amused by it. He appears to have acted on my advice. (She rises and goes to the hearth.) Gloria: I am sorry you think me weak; but I cannot tell you what you want. You are all too young.
PHILIP. This is rather a startling departure from Twentieth Century principles.
DOLLY (quoting). “Answer all your children’s questions, and answer them truthfully, as soon as they are old enough to ask them.” See Twentieth Century Motherhood —
PHILIP. Page one —
DOLLY. Chapter one —
PHILIP. Sentence one.
MRS. CLANDON. My dears: I did not say that you were too young to know. I said you were too young to be taken into my confidence. You are very bright children, all of you; but I am glad for your sakes that you are still very inexperienced and consequently very unsympathetic. There are some experiences of mine that I cannot bear to speak of except to those who have gone through what I have gone through. I hope you will never be qualified for such confidences. But I will take care that you shall learn all you want to know. Will that satisfy you?
PHILIP. Another grievance, Dolly.
DOLLY. We’re not sympathetic.
GLORIA (leaning forward in her chair and looking earnestly up at her mother). Mother: I did not mean to be unsympathetic.
MRS. CLANDON (affectionately). Of course not, dear. Do you think I don’t understand?
GLORIA (rising). But, mother —
MRS. CLANDON (drawing back a little). Yes?
GLORIA (obstinately). It is nonsense to tell us that our father is nothing to us.
MRS. CLANDON (provoked to sudden resolution). Do you remember your father?
GLORIA (meditatively, as if the recollection were a tender one). I am not quite sure. I think so.
MRS. CLANDON (grimly). You are not sure?
GLORIA. No.
MRS. CLANDON (with quiet force). Gloria: if I had ever struck you — (Gloria recoils: Philip and Dolly are disagreeably shocked; all three start at her, revolted as she continues) — struck you purposely, deliberately, with the intention of hurting you, with a whip bought for the purpose! Would you remember that, do you think? (Gloria utters an exclamation of indignant repulsion.) That would have been your last recollection of your father, Gloria, if I had not taken you away from him. I have kept him out of your life: keep him now out of mine by never mentioning him to me again. (Gloria, with a shudder, covers her face with her hands, until, hearing someone at the door, she turns away and pretends to occupy herself looking at the names of the books in the bookcase. Mrs. Clandon sits down on the sofa. Valentine returns.).
VALENTINE. I hope I’ve not kept you waiting. That landlord of mine is really an extraordinary old character.
DOLLY (eagerly). Oh, tell us. How long has he given you to pay?
MRS. CLANDON (distracted by her child’s bad manners). Dolly, Dolly, Dolly dear! You must not ask questions.
DOLLY (demurely). So sorry. You’ll tell us, won’t you, Mr. Valentine?
VALENTINE. He doesn’t want his rent at all. He’s broken his tooth on a Brazil nut; and he wants me to look at it and to lunch with him afterwards.
DOLLY. Then have him up and pull his tooth out at once; and we’ll bring him to lunch, too. Tell the maid to fetch him along. (She runs to the bell and rings it vigorously. Then, with a sudden doubt she turns to Valentine and adds) I suppose he’s respectable — really respectable.
VALENTINE. Perfectly. Not like me.
DOLLY. Honest Injun? (Mrs. Clandon gasps faintly; but her powers of remonstrance are exhausted.)
VALENTINE. Honest Injun!
DOLLY. Then off with you and bring him up.
VALENTINE (looking dubiously at Mrs. Clandon). I daresay he’d be delighted if — er — ?
MRS. CLANDON (rising and looking at her watch). I shall be happy to see your friend at lunch, if you can persuade him to come; but I can’t wait to see him now: I have an appointment at the hotel at a quarter to one with an old friend whom I have not seen since I left England eighteen years ago. Will you excuse me?
VALENTINE. Certainly, Mrs. Clandon.
GLORIA. Shall I come?
MRS. CLANDON. No, dear. I want to be alone. (She goes out, evidently still a good deal troubled. Valentine