ASHER. You didn't sleep a wink last night, thinking of George.
AUGUSTA. I've given up all hope of ever seeing him again alive.
(Enter DR. JONATHAN, lower right. His calmness is in contrast to
the storm, and to the mental states of ASHER and AUGUSTA.)
Why, Jonathan, what are you doing out in this storm?
DR. JONATHAN. I came to see you, Augusta.
AUGUSTA (knitting, trying to hide her perturbation at his appearance). Did you? You might have waited until the worst was over. You still have to be careful of your health, you know.
DR. JONATHAN (sitting down). There are other things more important than my health. No later news about George, I suppose.
ASHER. Yes. I got another telegram early this morning saying that he is on his way home on a transport.
DR. JONATHAN. On his way home!
ASHER. If he lives to arrive. I'll show you the wire. Apparently they can't make anything out of his condition, but think it's shell shock. This storm has been raging along the coast ever since nine o'clock, the wires are down, but I did manage to telephone to New York and get hold of Frye, the shell-shock specialist. In case George should land today, he'll meet him.