Lassalle. [Coloring and confused] Oh, surely, I will—I will find one for you and send it by mail.
Helene. Perhaps you have one in your pocketbook?
Lassalle. Oh, that is so; possibly I have!
[Takes pocketbook out of breast-pocket of his coat, fumbles and finds a small, square photograph, which he passes over to Helene, who studies his face and then the photograph.]
Helene. [Looking at picture] She has intellect!
Lassalle. [Trying to laugh] She was born in Eighteen Hundred Eight—I call her Gran'ma!
Helene. Is she handsome?
Lassalle. Oh, twenty years ago she was.
Helene. Twenty years ago she was a woman in distress?