Louis.  Of course I havnt the ridiculous vanity to set up to be exactly a Superman; but still, it’s an ideal that I strive towards just as any other man strives towards his ideal.

B. B. [intolerant] Dont trouble to explain.  I now understand you perfectly.  Say no more, please.  When a man pretends to discuss science, morals, and religion, and then avows himself a follower of a notorious and avowed anti-vaccinationist, there is nothing more to be said. [Suddenly putting in an effusive saving clause in parenthesis to Ridgeon] Not, my dear Ridgeon, that I believe in vaccination in the popular sense any more than you do:  I neednt tell you that.  But there are things that place a man socially; and anti-vaccination is one of them. [He resumes his seat on the dais].

Sir Patrick.  Bernard Shaw?  I never heard of him.  He’s a Methodist preacher, I suppose.

Louis [scandalized] No, no.  He’s the most advanced man now living:  he isn’t anything.

Sir Patrick.  I assure you, young man, my father learnt the doctrine of deliverance from sin from John Wesley’s own lips before you or Mr. Shaw were born.  It used to be very popular as an excuse for putting sand in sugar and water in milk.  Youre a sound Methodist, my lad; only you don’t know it.

Louis [seriously annoyed for the first time] Its an intellectual insult.  I don’t believe theres such a thing as sin.

Sir Patrick.  Well, sir, there are people who dont believe theres such a thing as disease either.  They call themselves Christian Scientists, I believe.  Theyll just suit your complaint.  We can do nothing for you. [He rises].  Good afternoon to you.

Louis [running to him piteously] Oh dont get up, Sir Patrick.  Don’t go.  Please dont.  I didnt mean to shock you, on my word.  Do sit down again.  Give me another chance.  Two minutes more:  thats all I ask.

Sir Patrick [surprised by this sign of grace, and a little touched] Well—­ [He sits down]

Louis [gratefully] Thanks awfully.

Sir Patrick [continuing] I don’t mind giving you two minutes more.  But dont address yourself to me; for Ive retired from practice; and I dont pretend to be able to cure your complaint.  Your life is in the hands of these gentlemen.

Ridgeon.  Not in mine.  My hands are full.  I have no time and no means available for this case.

Sir Patrick.  What do you say, Mr. Walpole?

Walpole.  Oh, I’ll take him in hand:  I dont mind.  I feel perfectly convinced that this is not a moral case at all:  it’s a physical one.  Theres something abnormal about his brain.  That means, probably, some morbid condition affecting the spinal cord.  And that means the circulation.  In short, it’s clear to me that he’s suffering from an obscure form of blood-poisoning, which is almost certainly due to an accumulation of ptomaines in the nuciform sac.  I’ll remove the sac—­