Rübub (has risen, and comes in through glass-door, breathing with difficulty; he is a prematurely bald young man of fifty-five, with a harelip and squints slightly). I beg pardon, Dr. Herdal, I see I interrupt you. (As Senna rises.) I have just completed this pill. Have you looked at it?
[He offers it for inspection diffidently.
Dr. Herd. (evasively). It appears to be a pill of the usual dimensions.
Rübub (cast down). All these years you have never given me one encouraging word! Can't you praise my pill?
Dr. Herd. (struggles with himself). I—I cannot. You should not attempt to compound pills on your own account.
Rübub (breathing laboriously). And yet there was a time when you, too——
Dr. Herd. (complacently). Yes, it was certainly a pill that came as a lucky stepping-stone—but not a pill like that!
Rübub (vehemently). Listen! Is that your last word? Is my aged mother to pass out of this world without ever knowing whether I am competent to construct an effective pill or not?
Dr. Herd. (as if in desperation). You had better try it upon your mother—it will enable her to form an opinion. Only mind—I will not be responsible for the result.
Rübub. I understand. Exactly as you tried your pill, all those years ago, upon Dr. Ryval. [He bows, and goes out.