KENT. This looks like popularity and the great heart of the people, doesn't
it?

WEDGECROFT. Trebell, you're not ill, and I've work to do.

TREBELL. I want ten minutes. Keep anybody out, Kent.

KENT. I'll switch that speaking tube arrangement to my room.

TREBELL, _overflowing with vitality, starts to face the floor._

TREBELL. I've seen the last of Pump Court, Gilbert.

WEDGECROFT. The Bar ought to give you a testimonial ... to the man who not
only could retire on twenty years' briefs, but has.

TREBELL. Fifteen. But I bled the City sharks with a good conscience ...
quite freely.

WEDGECROFT. [_With a pretence at grumbling._] I wish I could retire.

TREBELL. No you don't. Doctoring's a priestcraft ... you've taken vows.

WEDGECROFT. Then why don't you establish _our_ church instead of ...

TREBELL. Yes, my friend ... but you're a heretic. I'd have to give the
Medical Council power to burn you at the stake.

KENT. [_With the book packages._] Parcel from the S.P.C.K., sir.