Zoe. Dear Dora, try to understand it with your heart. You love George; you love him dearly; I know it: and you deserve to be loved by him. He will love you—he must. His love for me will pass away—it shall. You heard him say it was hopeless. O, forgive him and me!
Dora. [Weeping.] O, why did he speak to me at all then? You've made me cry, then, and I hate you both!
[Exit L., through room.
Enter Mrs. Peyton and Scudder, M'Closky and Pointdexter, R.
M'Closky. [C.] I'm sorry to intrude, but the business I came upon will excuse me.
Mrs. Pey. Here is my nephew, sir.
Zoe. Perhaps I had better go.
M'Closky. Wal, as it consarns you, perhaps you better had.
Scud. Consarns Zoe?
M'Closky. I don't know; she may as well hear the hull of it. Go on, Colonel—Colonel Pointdexter, ma'am—the mortgagee, auctioneer, and general agent.