She has flown to her piano. It looks well, indeed--our little
enterprise.

HAWCASTLE [grimly]. It's time. If Almeric had been anything but a clumsy
oof he'd have made her settle it weeks ago!

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [quickly]. You are invidious, mon ami! My affair is
not settled--am _I_ a clumsy oof?

HAWCASTLE [leaning toward her across the table and speaking sharply and
earnestly]. No, Hélène. _Your_ little American, brother Horace, is so in
love with you, if you asked him suddenly, "Is this day or night?" he
would answer, "It's Hélène." But he's too shy to speak. You're a
woman--you can't press matters; but Almeric's a man--he can. He can urge
an immediate marriage, which means an immediate settlement, and a direct
one.

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [seriously, quickly]. It will not be small, that
settlement?

[He shakes his head grimly, leaning back to look at her. She continues
eagerly.]

You have decide' what sum?

[He nods decidedly.]

What?