"Are you quite mad?" Burr asks, the instant they are alone. They are in Burr's room, the first break Burr has had from duty since the talk of court marital. Burr had been perfectly blank during that scene in Washington's office, though now he is agitated, pacing. "Both, both, I mean truly! I would not think you above such carnal pleasure, or hold them against you, but to get a woman with child, and to leave her in such a position, when it is you who have been lecturing me about the importance of legitimization!"

Burr cannot help but think of his own position, the gripping anxiety of a discovery, a confession that is more imminent each day, but more acute is a sting like betryal. He doesn't know why, but he feels gutted, a horrible gripping that causes him to lay a hand over that swell, to turn from Hamilton and walk towards the far corner of the room more like a closet.

He is alone, isn't he? Hamilton will have to do the right thing and marry that girl, and Burr here will be alone, and nothing had changed but he feels ill. And if Hamilton does not do what is right, he will be court-martialed, or killed, and Burr will be left here.

"You can't duel," Burr says desperately. "And you can't be court-martialed. You have to come to terms with the brother, make an offer for his sister."