Mrs. Ritter. [Setting her roses down on the partition-seat] You’ve just been working yourself to death! But nobody could tell you anything! [She starts out into the left hallway for the telephone.]
Ritter. [Stopping over near the window and turning] What are you going to do?
Mrs. Ritter. [Turning to him] Why, I’m going to call Doctor Wentworth of course.
Ritter. What for?
Mrs. Ritter. Why, because you need him!
Ritter. [Taking a step or two towards her, between the piano and the table below it] I won’t see any doctor, now!
Mrs. Ritter. [Coming back through the center-door] Now,—listen, Fred—
Ritter. [Raising his hand, and crossing to the left] I won’t see any doctor, I tell you—there’s nothing he can do for me: [He stops above the arm-chair at the left and rests his hand upon the back of it.] it’s all been done. There’s nothing left for me but to get out of town.
Mrs. Ritter. [Following him over] Well, just let him come over and see you, dear.
Ritter. What would I let him come over and see me for? There’s nothing the matter with me.