Common sense is itself too frail and uncertain a thing to be a criterion of sanity. The common sense of yesterday is to-day's folly, and our present common sense will be the madness of to-morrow.
Bellows
Well, I'll be—I'll wait for you down-stairs, doctor. (Exit.)
Seymour
The lad ought not to be in there alone. (Goes to door.) Philo, my boy!
(Philo comes out. He is extremely pale, his black hair pushed from his forehead, and his eyes burning, but his manner is calm.)
Philo
Well, am I a free man?
Seymour