ETHEL [astounded]. What!
PIKE. What's thought of them by the best citizens, and so on.
ETHEL [enraged]. You had the audacity--_you_--to pry into the affairs of
the Earl of Hawcastle!
PIKE. Why, I'd 'a' done that--I wouldn't 'a' stopped at anything--I'd'
'a' done that if it had been the Governor of Indiana himself!
ETHEL. You didn't consider it indelicate to write to strangers about my
intimate affairs?
PIKE [placatingly]. Why, Jim Cooley's home-folks! His office used to be
right next to mine in Kokomo.
ETHEL. It's monstrous--and when _they_ find what you've done--Oh, hadn't
you shamed me enough without this?
PIKE. I expect this letter'll show who ought to be ashamed. Now just
let's sit down here and try to work things out together.
ETHEL [with a slight, bitter laugh]. "Work things out together!"
PIKE. I'm sorry--for _you_, I mean. But I don't see any other way to do
it, except--together. Won't you?
[She moves slowly forward and sits at extreme left of the bench. He
watches her, noticing how far she withdraws from him, bows his head
humbly, with a sad smile, then sits, not quite at the extreme right of
the bench, but near it.]
PIKE. I haven't opened the letter yet. I want you to read it first, but
I ought to tell you there's probably things in it'll hurt your feelings,
sort of, mebbe.
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