Col. G. I hope you're not ill, sir.
Ger. Not in the least: I work all night sometimes.—You can go. (COL. G. lingers, with a searching gaze at the Psyche.)—I don't want anything.
Col. G. Pardon me, sir, but I am sure you are ill. You've done no work since last night.
Ger. (with displeasure). I am quite well, and wish to be alone.
Col. G. Mayn't I go and fetch a doctor, sir? It is better to take things in time.
Ger. You are troublesome. (Exit COL. G.)—What can the fellow mean? He looked at me so strangely too! He's officious—that's all, I dare say. A good sort of man, I do think! William!—What is it in the man's face?—(Enter Col G.) Is the breakfast ready?
Col. G. Quite ready, sir.
Ger. I'm sorry I spoke to you so hastily. The fact is—
Col. G. Don't mention it, sir. Speak as you will to me; I shan't mind it. When there's anything on a man's conscience—I—I—I mean on a man's mind—
Ger. What do you mean?