Yes.
PIKE. Seems funny, now; but out on the ocean, coming here, I kept kind
of looking forward to hearing you sing. I knew how high your pa had you
educated in music, and, like the old fool I was, I kept thinking you'd
sing for me some evening--"Sweet Genevieve" mebbe. You know it--don't
you?
ETHEL [slowly]. "Sweet Genevieve?" I used to--but it's rather
old-fashioned and common, isn't it?
PIKE. I expect so; I reckon mebbe that's the reason I like it so much.
[With an apologetic and pathetic laugh.]
Yes'm, it's my favorite. I couldn't--I couldn't get you to sing it for
me before I go back home--could I?
ETHEL. I--I think not.
[She looks at him thoughtfully, then goes slowly into the hotel.]
[PIKE sighs, and begins to read the last page of the letter.]
PIKE [reading]. "I am sorry old man Simpson's daughter thinks of buying
a title. Somehow I have a notion that that may hit you, Dan.
[Poignant dismay and awe are expressed in his voice as he continues.]
"I haven't forgotten how you always kept that picture of her on your
desk. The old man thought so much of you I had an idea he hoped she'd
come back some day and marry a man from home."
I don't wonder she said she hadn't read it!
[His face begins to light with radiant amazement.]
But she _had_--and she didn't go away--that is, not _right_ away!
[LORD HAWCASTLE and HORACE enter from the hotel.
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