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.