GAYNOR. There's someone knocking.
CARMODY. Who'll it be? Ah, it's Fred Nicholls, maybe. (In a low voice to Gaynor who has started to put on his overcoat.) Eileen's young man, Doctor, that she's engaged to marry, as you might say.
GAYNOR (thoughtfully). H'mm—yes—she spoke of him.
(As another knock sounds Carmody hurries to the rear. Gaynor, after a moments indecision, takes off his overcoat again and sits down. A moment later Carmody re-enters, followed by Fred Nicholls, who has left his overcoat and hat in the hallway. Nicholls is a young fellow of twenty-three, stockily built, fair-haired, handsome in a commonplace, conventional mould. His manner is obviously an attempt at suave gentility; he has an easy, taking smile and a ready laugh, but there is a petty, calculating expression in his small, observing, blue eyes. His well-fitting, ready-made clothes are carefully pressed. His whole get-up suggests an attitude of man-about-small-town complacency.)
CARMODY (as they enter). I had a mind to phone to your house, but I wasn't wishful to disturb you, knowin' you'd be comin' to call to-night.
NICHOLLS (with disappointed concern). It's nothing serious, I hope.
CARMODY (grumblingly). Ah, who knows? Here's the doctor. You've not met him?
NICHOLLS (politely, looking at Gaynor, who inclines his head stiffly). I haven't had the pleasure. Of course, I've heard——
CARMODY. It's Doctor Gaynor. This is Fred Nicholls, Doctor. (The two men shake hands with conventional greetings.) Sit down, Fred, that's a good lad, and be talkin' to the Doctor a moment while I go upstairs and see how is Eileen. She's all alone up there.
NICHOLLS. Certainly, Mr. Carmody. Go ahead—and tell her how sorry I am to learn she's under the weather.