At present he is
flushed and almost overcome with happy emotion. As he comes down the
steps MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY rushes toward him, taking both his hands.]
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [excitedly]. Ah, my dear Horace Granger-Simpson! Has
your sister told you?
HORACE [radiant, but almost tearful]. She has, indeed. I assure you I'm
quite overcome.
[MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY, dropping his hands, laughs deprecatingly, and
steps back from him.]
Really, I assure you.
HAWCASTLE [shaking hands with him very heartily]. My dear young friend,
not at all, not at all.
HORACE [fanning himself with his hat and wiping his brow]. I assure you
I am, I assure you I am--it's quite overpowering--_isn't_ it?
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY. Ah, poor Monsieur Horace!
ALMERIC. I say, don't take it that way, you know. She's very happy.
HORACE [crossing and grasping his hand]. She's worthy of it--she's
worthy of it. I know she is. And when will it be?
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY. Enchanting.
HAWCASTLE. Oh, the date? I dare say within a year--two years--
[COMTESSE starts to exclaim, but HAWCASTLE checks her.]
HORACE. Oh, but I say, you know! Isn't that putting it jolly far off?
The thing's settled, isn't it? Why not say a month instead of a year?
HAWCASTLE. Oh, if you like, I don't know that there is any real
objection.
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