nguor and indifference.]

Howdy, Countess!

[He drops into a chair at the breakfast-table with a slight effect of
sprawling.]

HAWCASTLE [sharply]. Almeric!

ALMERIC. Out riding a bit ago, you know, with Miss Granger-Simpson.
Rippin' girl, _isn't_ she?

HAWCASTLE [leaning across the table toward him, anxiously]. Go on!

ALMERIC [continuing, slapping his gaiters carelessly with his crop].
Didn't stop with her, though.

HAWCASTLE [angrily]. Why not?

ALMERIC. A sort of man in the village got me to go look at a
bull-terrier pup. Wonderful little beast for points. Jolly
luck--_wasn't_ it? He's got a _head_ on him--

HAWCASTLE [bitterly]. We'll concede his _tremendous_ advantage over you
in that respect.

[Throws his cigar disgustedly into one of the coffee-cups on the table.]

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [eagerly]. Is that _all_ you have to tell us?

ALMERIC. Oh no! She accepted me.

[HAWCASTLE drops into a chair with a long breath of relief.]

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [waving her parasol]. Enfin! Bravo! And will she let
it be soon?

ALMERIC [sincerely]. I dare say there'll be no row about that; I've made
her aw'fly happy.

HAWCASTLE. On my soul, I believe you're right--and thank God you are!

[Rises as he speaks and walks up centre. Breaks off short as he sees
HORACE.]

[Illustration: "OH NO! SHE ACCEPTED ME"]

Here's the brother--attention now!

[HORACE enters the hotel. He is a boyish-looking American of twenty-two,
smooth-shaven. He wears white flannels, the coat double-breasted and
buttoned, the tie is light blue "puffing" fastened with a large pearl.
He wears light-yellow chamois gloves, white shoes, a small, stiff
English straw hat with blue-and-white ribbon. When he speaks it is with
a strong "English accent," which he sometimes forgets. At present he is
flushed and almost overcome with happy emotion. As he comes down the
steps MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY rushes toward him, taking both his hands.]

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [excitedly]. Ah, my dear Horace Granger-Simpson! Has
your sister told you?

HORACE [radiant, but almost tearful]. She has, indeed. I assure you I'm
quite overcome.

[MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY, dropping his hands, laughs deprecatingly, and
steps back from him.]

Really, I assure you.

HAWCASTLE [shaking hands with him very heartily]. My dear young friend,
not at all, not at all.

HORACE [fanning himself with his hat and wiping his brow]. I assure you
I am, I assure you I am--it's quite overpowe