RIDGEON. Jane Marsh? No.
SIR PATRICK. You dont!
RIDGEON. No.
SIR PATRICK. You mean to tell me you dont remember the woman with the tuberculosis ulcer on her arm?
RIDGEON [enlightened] Oh, your washerwoman’s daughter. Was her name Jane Marsh? I forgot.
SIR PATRICK. Perhaps youve forgotten also that you undertook to cure her with Koch’s tuberculin.
RIDGEON. And instead of curing her, it rotted her arm right off. Yes: I remember. Poor Jane! However, she makes a good living out of that arm now by shewing it at medical lectures.
SIR PATRICK. Still, that wasnt quite what you intended, was it?
RIDGEON. I took my chance of it.
SIR PATRICK. Jane did, you mean.