PIKE [genially].  Oh, I’ll talk about anything else with you.

HAWCASTLE [suavely].  This is a question distinctly different [with a glance at the hotel, his voice growing somewhat threatening]—­distinctly!

[ETHEL enters from the hotel.]

ETHEL [to HAWCASTLE, in a troubled voice].  You wished me to come here.

HAWCASTLE [going to her and taking her hand].  My child, I wish you to have another chat with our strangely prejudiced friend on the subject so near to all our hearts.  And I wish to tell you that I see light breaking through our clouds.  Even if he prove obdurate, do not be downcast—­all will be well.

[Turns and goes out into the garden, his voice coming back in benign, fatherly tones.]

All will be well!

[PIKE stands regarding ETHEL, who does not look up at him.]

PIKE [gently].  I’m glad you’ve come, Miss Ethel.  I’ve got something here I want to read to you.

ETHEL [coldly].  I did not come to hear you read.

PIKE.  When I got your letter at home I wrote to Jim Cooley, our vice-consul at London, to look up the records of these Hawcastle folks and write to me here about how they stand in their own community.

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.

ETHEL [icily].  How?

PIKE.  Well, I haven’t much of a doubt but Jim’ll have some statements in it that’ll show you I’m right about these people.  If he’s got the facts, I know he will.

ETHEL. How do you know it?