ETHEL [impatiently]. Please listen. If you were at all a man of the
world, I should not have to explain that in marrying into a noble house
I bring my _dot_, my dowry--
PIKE [puzzled]. _Money_, you mean?
ETHEL. If you choose to put it that way.
PIKE. You mean you want to put aside something of your own to buy a lot
and fix up a place to start housekeeping--
ETHEL. No, _no_! I mean a settlement upon Mr. St. Aubyn directly.
PIKE. You mean you want to _give_ it to him?
ETHEL. If that's the only way to make you understand--_yes_!
PIKE [amused]. How much do you want to give him?
ETHEL [coldly]. A hundred and fifty thousand pounds.
PIKE [incredulously]. Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars!
ETHEL. _Precisely_ that!
PIKE [amazed]. Well, he _has_ made you care for him! I guess he must be
the Prince of the World, honey! He must be a great man. I expect you're
right about me not meetin' _him_! I prob'ly wouldn't stack up very high
alongside of a man that's big enough for you to think as much of as you
do of him. [Smiling.] Why, I'd have to squeeze every bit of property
your pa left you.
ETHEL. Is it _your_ property?
PIKE [gently]. I've worked pretty hard to take care of it for you.
ETHEL [rising impulsively and coming to him]. Forgive me for saying
that.
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