GEORGE. Well, doctor?
DOCTOR. Well! There is no doubt about your case.
GEORGE [wiping his forehead] No doubt—How do you mean no doubt?
DOCTOR. I mean it in the bad sense. [He writes. George turns pale, and stays silent for a moment in terror. He sighs again]. Come, come, you must have thought as much.
GEORGE. No, no.
DOCTOR. All the same!
GEORGE [utterly prostrated] Good God!
DOCTOR [stops writing and observes him] Don’t be frightened. Out of every seven men you meet in the street, or in society, or at the theatre, there is at least one who is or has been in your condition. One in seven, fifteen per cent.
GEORGE [quietly, as if to himself] Anyhow, I know what to do.