Paramore.  Thanks.  Quite well, I hope?

Grace.  Quite, thank you.  You’re looking overworked.  We must take more care of you, Doctor.

Paramore.  You are very kind.

Grace.  It is you who are too kind—­to your patients.  You sacrifice yourself.  Have a little rest.  Come and talk to me—­tell me all about the latest scientific discoveries, and what I ought to read to keep myself up to date.  But perhaps you’re busy.

Paramore.  No, not at all.  Only too delighted. (They go into the recess on Ibsen’s left, and sit there chatting in whispers, very confidentially.)

Charteris.  How they all love a doctor!  They can say what they like to him! (Julia returns.  He takes his feet down from the ladder and sits up.) Whew! (Julia wanders down his side of the room, apparently looking for someone.  Charteris steals after her.)

Charteris (in a low voice).  Looking for me, Julia?

Julia (starting violently).  Oh!  How you startled me!

Charteris.  Sh!  I want to shew you something.  Look! (He points to the pair in the recess.)

Julia (jealously).  That woman!

Charteris.  My young woman, carrying off your young man.

Julia.  What do you mean?  Do you dare insinuate—­

Charteris.  Sh—­sh—­sh!  Don’t disturb them. (Paramore rises; takes down a book; and sits on a footstool at Grace’s feet.)

Julia.  Why are they whispering like that?

Charteris.  Because they don’t want anyone to hear what they are saying to one another. (Paramore shews Grace a picture in the book.  They both laugh heartily over it.)

Julia.  What is he shewing her?

Charteris.  Probably a diagram of the liver. (Julia, with an exclamation of disgust makes for the recess.  Charteris catches her sleeve.) Stop:  be careful, Julia. (She frees herself by giving him a push which upsets him into the easy chair; then crosses to the recess and stands looking down at Grace and Paramore from the corner next the fireplace.)

Julia (with suppressed fury).  You seem to have found a very interesting book, Dr. Paramore. (They look up, astonished.) May I ask what it is? (She stoops swiftly; snatches the book from Paramore; and comes down to the table quickly to look at it whilst they rise in amazement.) Good Words! (She flings it on the table and sweeps back past Charteris, exclaiming contemptuously) You fool! (Paramore and Grace, meanwhile, come from the recess; Paramore bewildered, Grace very determined.)

Charteris (aside to Julia as he gets out of the easy chair).  Idiot!  She’ll have you turned out of the club for this.

Julia (terrified).  She can’t—­can she?

Paramore.  What is the matter, Miss Craven?

Charteris (hastily).  Nothing—­my fault—­a stupid, practical joke.  I beg your pardon and Mrs. Tranfield’s.