ANDREW. (brokenly) Good God! (RUTH keeps her eyes fixed on her lap in a trance-like stare).
FAWCETT. I am sorry I have to tell you this. If there was anything that could be done——
ANDREW. There isn’t anything?
FAWCETT. (shaking his head) It’s too late. Six months ago there might have——
ANDREW. (in anguish) But if we were to take him to the mountains—or to Arizona—or——
FAWCETT. That might have prolonged his life six months ago. (ANDREW groans) But now—— (He shrugs his shoulders significantly).
ANDREW. (appalled by a sudden thought) Good heavens, you haven’t told him this, have you, Doctor?
FAWCETT. No. I lied to him. I said a change of climate—— (He looks at his watch again nervously) I must leave you. (He gets up).
ANDREW. (getting to his feet—insistently) But there must still be some chance——
FAWCETT. (as if he were reassuring a child) There is always that last chance—the miracle. (He puts on his hat and coat—bowing to RUTH) Good-by, Mrs. Mayo.