AUSTIN. I'll go on missing it, Flo.
FLORENCE (looking through window). Well, I won't.
(Exit Florence. Austin sits down in desk-chair, staring at the wall, blankly.)
AUSTIN. Metherell!
(Enter from the ambulance-room Dr. Wells, a young sporting doctor, nice-looking, with dark hair and moustache. He is passing through to the outer door. Austin starts.)
Oh, it's you, Doctor. You startled me.
WELLS. I beg your pardon, Mr. Whitworth.
AUSTIN. My fault for day-dreaming. (Rising.) Ready for contingencies in your torture chamber?
WELLS. All clear. You look rather like a contingency yourself.
AUSTIN. I'm—I'm nervous.