Carlyon.
[Rising; peremptorily.] Vera, I don't offer you my work as a pis aller. If you wish to go back to your medicine. . . .
Vera.
Dr. Rheinhardt has definitely forbidden me!
Carlyon.
You could win Rheinhardt round in ten minutes. The point is—do you wish it?
Vera.
[Dispiritedly.] Oh, no; I want only to serve you. When you first spoke of making me your secretary, it came to me like a ray of sunlight.
Carlyon.