A hundred and fifty thousand
pounds! Why, that's seven hundred and fifty thous--[He pauses, then
finishes decidedly.] She couldn't use the money to better advantage.
[Enter ETHEL from the hotel. She has one thick book under her arm,
another in her hand.]
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [to HORACE, with deep admiration]. My friend, how
wise you are!
[She perceives ETHEL'S entrance over HORACE'S shoulder, and at once runs
to her, embraces her, and kisses her, crying.]
Largesse, sweet Countess of Hawcastle! Largesse! and au revoir! Adieu! I
leave you with your dear brother. A rivederci.
[She runs gayly out, waving her parasol to them as she goes.]
HORACE [going to ETHEL]. Dear old sis, dear old pal!
[Affectionately gives her hand a squeeze and drops it.]
ETHEL [radiant]. Isn't it glorious, Hoddy!
HORACE. The others are almost as pleased as we are.
[He leans back in chair, knees crossed, hands clasped over knees, and
regards her proudly.]
ETHEL [opens the books she carries, laying them on one of the
tea-tables]. This is Burke's _Peerage_, and this is Froissart's
_Chronicles_. I've been reading it all over again--the St. Aubyns at
Crecy and Agincourt [with an exalted expression], and St. Aubyn will be
_my_ name!
HORACE [smiling]. They want it to be your name _soon_, sis.
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