GERTRUDE. Sir George Brodrick? Amos!
AMOS. Doesn't Mr. Cleeve feel so well?
FORTUNE. Oh, yes. But Mrs. Cleeve 'appen to read in a newspapare zat
Sir George Brodrick vas in Florence for ze Paque—ze Eastare. Sir
Brodrick vas Mr. Cleeve's doctor in London, Mrs. Cleeve tell me, so'e
is acquainted wiz Mr. Cleeve's inside.
AMOS. Ho, ho!
GERTRUDE. Mr. Cleeve's constitution, Fortune.
FORTUNE. Excuse, madame. Zerefore Mrs. Cleeve she telegraph for Sir
Brodrick to come to Venise.
AMOS. To consult with Dr. Kirke, I suppose.
FORTUNE. [Listening.] 'Ere is ze doctares.
[DR. KIRKE enters, followed by SIR GEORGE BRODRICK. KIRKE is a shabby, snuff-taking old gentleman—blunt but kind; SIR GEORGE, on the contrary, is scrupulously neat in his dress, and has a suave, professional manner. FORTUNE withdraws]
KIRKE. Good morning, Mr. Winterfield. [To GERTRUDE.] How do you do, my dear? You're getting some colour into your pretty face, I'm glad to see. [To SIR GEORGE.] Mr. Winterfield—Sir George Brodrick. [SIR GEORGE and AMOS shake hands.]