SIMPSON. Dr. Wedgecroft, sir.

WEDGECROFT _is on her heels. If you have an eye for essentials you may
tell at once that he is a doctor, but if you only notice externals you
will take him, for anything else. He is over forty and in perfect
health of body and spirit. His enthusiasms are his vitality and he has
too many of them ever to lose one. He squeezes_ MISS TREBELL'S _hand
with an air of fearless affection which is another of his
characteristics and not the least loveable._

WEDGECROFT. How are you?

FRANCES. I'm very well, thanks.

WEDGECROFT. [_To_ TREBELL, _as they shake hands._] You're looking fit.

TREBELL. [_With tremendous emphasis._] I am!

WEDGECROFT. You've got the motor eye though.

TREBELL. Full of dust?

WEDGECROFT. Look at Kent's. [_He takes_ WALTER'S _arm._] It's a slight but
serious contraction of the pupil ... which I charge fifty guineas to cure.

FRANCES. It's the eye of faith in you and your homeopathic doses. Don't you
interfere with it.

FRANCES TREBELL, _housekeeper, goes out._ KENT _has seized on the
letters and is carrying them to his room._