Mrs. Thorne. My husband has no time to study these questions, Mary. All his life is given up to science, you know. I thought—when we were first married—I could influence him in these ways. But a doctor’s wife learns better than that.
Mrs. Fayth. What he needs is to be half-dead. Then he would have to believe. He is too much alive, poor Doctor.... It is such a joy to be alive, Helen! I thought I must run in and tell you.
Mrs. Thorne (smiling affectionately). I’ll tell him to be sure and see you to-morrow. You’ll need it.
Mrs. Fayth. Well, Fred can tel-e-phone. I dare say I shall be sick enough. Good-by, dear—Helen? What ails you? You don’t look right to-night.
Mrs. Thorne (arousing). Laddie doesn’t seem well at all. I can’t make Esmerald believe that anything ails him. But that’s the way, you know.... I am not allowed to be anxious. The mother of a doctor’s child can never be that.
Mrs. Fayth (with quick sympathy). Oh, I am so sorry! I know just how you feel—
Mrs. Thorne. You never had a child, Mary.
Mrs. Fayth. But sick people understand everything. Oh, we know!
Mrs. Thorne. Yes. I suppose you have so much time to think.
Mrs. Fayth. We have so much time to feel. (Rises to leave.)