(Doctor and Plant up.)
Flora. Ooh! (sits up)
TABLEAU.
She's not a bit comfortable where she is, Doctor Sheppard!
Plant. (aside) Ah, the old story! (crosses R. of table)
Flora. I've got pins and needles.
Doctor. My poor child, let me——(goes to her O. P. side of table)
Flora. Go away—don't touch me. (lies on couch, rubbing her leg, aside to Doctor) I'm not your poor child any longer. I shall get the registrar to cancel our certificate.
Plant. (to Doctor. who comes down C., looking miserable) So that's your anatomical model, eh? Your friend's wife? You Don Juan! (digs him in ribs. In his ear) "These things cost money, you know." (laughs—to Doctor) If it comes to a divorce, look me up. I'll pull you through on reduced terms.
Doctor. No, no, you don't understand.