Garside's Career: A Comedy in Four Acts

by Harold Brighouse

Peter. But——

Mrs. G. (interrupting, dryly). Besides, I think there may be something in it.

[Peter hides his face again with a deep "Oh!"

O'Cal. (putting his hand on Peter's shoulder). Be a man, Peter.

Peter (looking up at him). Yes, it's all very well for you to talk. You with your beastly robust health. I'm an invalid.

Mar. I assure you, you're not looking half so feeble as you did. You're improving under treatment.

Peter. Then I must thrive on torture.

Mar. Something's doing you good. You're not the woebegone catastrophe you were.

Peter (rising). I won't tolerate this.

Mar. You prefer to be a catastrophe, in fact?