Mrs. Del. Idiot! He deserves to lose her.... But your guest! (Laughs) Poor Madela! How he would upset your nice, comfortable theories of life! Why, you could n’t hand him a cup of tea without feeling the planet quake.
Mrs. Tru. But what are we to do? Kate, you must help me.
Mrs. Del. I ’m going to. You can’t tell her father, because Helen must be persuaded, not opposed. And don’t speak about the money. If she loved a beggar she would trudge barefoot behind him.
Mrs. Tru. (Despairingly) O, don’t I know it?
Mrs. Del. Now you leave this to me, Madela. I will say a few things to Helen about meeting Mr. Poe in Europe—and—you know—
Mrs. Tru. (Kissing her violently) O, Kate! Tell her all—and more, if necessary! Don’t think about your reputation if you can save Roger’s fortune—
Mrs. Del. Sh!—
(Enter Helen, with wine and a glass)
Mrs. Tru. (Feebly) Thank you, dear, but I ’m better now. (Rising) I ’ll try to rest. (Goes to door)
Hel. I would see you to your room, mamma, but I ’m sure you would rather have Catherine. (Mrs. Delormis makes no move to go)