(Enter Jabez with a small red bound book, keeping a place in it with his finger. Clavering leaves Rosie promptly and stands above table.)
JABEZ. I'm primed now, doctor. (He sits and puts the book open on the table.) There's not much worth knowing about my men that this friend can't tell me (Tapping the book). But it doesn't tell me much good about Mr. Alcott (Emphasizing the "Mr." sarcastically).
CLAV. Sorry to hear that. Poor chap, he's in a bad way. (Rosie looks interested.) eh?
JABEZ. Oh, you've been to see him professionally,
CLAV. I don't go to see Brixham's Buildings, they come to me. Surgery hours are just over.
ROSIE (Softly, sitting at writing-table r., taking a piece of note paper and writing). Brixham's Buildings.
JABEZ. Well?
CLAV. (Sitting above table with elbows on it and fingertips at chin). The work doesn't suit him. What that fellow needs is a good dose of fresh air. When I told him so, he said he'd lose his job if he asked off for a month. I've come to see if something cant be arranged for him, Mr. Tompson.
JABEZ (Coldly). In what way?
CLAV. Couldn't you give him sick leave for a month or so?