Betsy.
Yes.
Mrs. Reynolds.
[With conscious pride.] Yes, it's made quite a stir, hasn't it? I came because I thought you might feel badly about it. I thought you might feel angry with him.
Betsy.
With whom?
Mrs. Reynolds.
Why, with Mr. Hamilton. I don't see how any one could — he's so nice, but
Betsy.
What is it you want to say?
Mrs. Reynolds.
Well, I wouldn't like you to be cross with him. You mustn't blame him because it wasn't his fault.
Betsy.
Whose fault was it?
Mrs. Reynolds.
Well, it was mine in the end, but at first it was Reynolds'.
Betsy.
Reynolds?
Mrs. Reynolds.
Yes, Reynolds arranged it because some of his friends—political gentlemen—wanted to get Mr. Hamilton talked about. And of course when I went I hadn't an idea what he was like—and when I found he was so nice, I half wished I hadn't said I'd
