PIKE. No, ma'am; I mean to your--to the young man.

ETHEL. To Mr. St. Aubyn? I think it quite unnecessary.

PIKE. I'm afraid I can't see it just that way [with an apologetic
laugh]. I'll _have_ to have a couple of talks with him--sort of look him
over, so to speak. I won't stay around here spoilin' your fun any longer
than I can help. Only just for that, and to get a letter I'm expectin'
here from England. Don't you be afraid.

ETHEL. I do not see that you need have come at all. [Her lip begins to
tremble.] We could have been spared this mortification.

PIKE [sadly]. You mean _I_ mortify you? Why, I--I can't see how.

ETHEL. In a hundred ways--every way. That common person who is with
you--

PIKE [gently]. _He_ ain't common. You only think so because he's with
_me_.

ETHEL [sharply]. Who is he?

PIKE. He told me his name, but I can't remember it. I call him "Doc."

ETHEL. It doesn't _matter_! What _does_ matter is that you needn't have
come. You could have _written_ your consent.

PIKE [mildly]. Not without seeing the young man.