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We ought to know each other. We're colleagues, in a way.
MICHAELIS.
Colleagues?
LITTLEFIELD.
In a way, yes. I'm a practising physician.
_Exit Rhoda._
You seem to have the call on us professionals, to judge by the number of your clients out yonder.
_He points out of the window._
To say nothing of Exhibit One!
_He points to the hall door._
MICHAELIS.
_Vaguely._
I--I don't know that I--
_Rhoda enters from the kitchen, with water, which he takes._
Thank you.
_He drinks thirstily. Mr. Beeler appears in the hall door; he looks at the group, taken aback._
BEELER.
Oh--!
LITTLEFIELD.
I stopped to chat with your niece. She and I happen to be old acquaintances.
BEELER.
You don't say?--Would you mind coming in here for a minute?
LITTLEFIELD.
_Following him out._
What's up?
BEELER.
My wife's got it in her head that she's called upon to--
_Door closes. Michaelis, who has followed Littlefield with his eyes, sets down the gla.s.s, and turns slowly to Rhoda._
MICHAELIS.
Who is that?
RHODA.
My aunt's doctor.
MICHAELIS.
You know him well?
RHODA.
Yes.--No.
MICHAELIS.
What does that mean?
RHODA.
I haven't seen him for nearly two years.--I can't remember much about the person I was, two years ago.
MICHAELIS.
Yes! Yes! I understand.
_He turns away, lifting his hands, speaking half to himself._
That these lives of ours should be poured like a jelly, from one mould into another, until G.o.d Himself cannot remember what they were two years ago, or two hours ago!
RHODA.
Why do you say that?
_He does not answer, but walks nervously about. Rhoda, watching him, speaks, after a silence._
Last month--out West--were there many people there?
MICHAELIS.
No.--Two or three.
