Hargrave (rising to the sentimentality of the occasion). My heart is bigger than its beat, Jane.
Jane. Ah, but you have been in this country many days, and you never once wrote to tell me. We should have been glad to see you, all of us, even Dill—that's my butler—but he's almost one of the family.
Hargrave (scowling). I came to America from a sense of duty, Jane, and it has completely absorbed my time. I came to find my brother.
Jane. You never told me you had a brother. You left that for your son to do.
Hargrave. Then Jack has told you.
Jane. Yes.
Hargrave. The fact is, Jane, that I have never spoken very much of my brother to anyone. The poor fellow eloped just before I met you, and our recollection of him has always been a sad one. Sadder still has been my present duty to investigate and find that he is dead.
Jane (ironically). The Peter Kent that I knew had very little sense of duty. Often I thought that he had none at all. But he was not the Peter Hargrave that I see now. He was not a minister, and he did not lie. He was not a hypocrite and he did not masquerade under a false name to swindle his own brother, his living brother whom he pretended to think dead.
Hargrave (surprised and sullen). It is not true.
Jane. It is true! Your son told me.