You Never Can Tell

Excerpt: ...contradicting each other pathetically. She comes to the corner of the garden seat and stands with her back to it, leaning against the end of it, and looking down at him as if wondering at his weakness: too curious about him to be cold, but supremely indifferent to their kinship.) Well? GLORIA. I want to speak with you for a moment. CRAMPTON (looking steadily at her). Indeed? That's surprising. You meet your father after eighteen years; and you actually want to speak to him for a moment! That's touching: isn't it? (He rests his head on his hands, and looks down and away from her, in gloomy reflection.) GLORIA. All that is what seems to me so nonsensical, so uncalled for. What do you expect us to feel for you--to do for you? What is it you want? Why are you less civil to us than other people are? You are evidently not very fond of us--why should you be? But surely we can meet without quarrelling. CRAMPTON (a dreadful grey shade passing over his face). Do you realize that I am your father? GLORIA. Perfectly. CRAMPTON. Do you know what is due to me as your father? GLORIA. For instance--? CRAMPTON (rising as if to combat a monster). For instance! For instance!! For instance, duty, affection, respect, obedience-- GLORIA (quitting her careless leaning attitude and confronting him promptly and proudly). I obey nothing but my sense of what is right. I respect nothing that is not noble. That is my duty. (She adds, less firmly) As to affection, it is not within my control. I am not sure that I quite know what affection means. (She turns away with an evident distaste for that part of the subject, and goes to the luncheon table for a comfortable chair, putting down her book and sunshade.) CRAMPTON (following her with his eyes). Do you really mean what you are saying? GLORIA (turning on him quickly and severely). Excuse me: that is an uncivil question. I am speaking seriously to you; and I expect you to take me seriously. (She takes one of the luncheon...