Darrell
[Amused—dryly]
Possibly she eats too much.
Marsden
[As he bends and carefully picks another sheet from the floor to place it as carefully on the table]
She doesn’t eat enough to keep a canary alive. It’s a dull, constant pain, she says. She’s terribly worried. She’s terrified by the idea of cancer. But, of course, that’s perfect rot, she’s never been sick a day in her life and—
Darrell
[Sharply]
She’s showing more intelligence about her pain than you are.
Marsden
[Bending down for another sheet, his voice trembling with terror]
I don’t understand—quite. Do you mean to say you think—?
Darrell
[Brutally]
It’s possible.
[He has pulled out his pen and a card and is writing]
[Thinking grimly]
Explode a bomb under him, as I did once before . . . only way to get him started doing anything. . . .
Marsden
[Angrily]
But—that’s nonsense!
