Doctor. Quite! Here's her letter, _(crosses to sofa, takes it from his pocket and gives it to her)_ Now are you satisfied, jealous little woman?

Flora. Forgive me, Jack. I can't help being jealous of everybody and everything--I love you so much!

Doctor. _(round on to sofa)_ I know you do--and see what luck you've brought me. _(pointing to letter which she is reading)_ I told you we shouldn't go wrong if we followed Quayle's advice.

Auntie's coming to-morrow, and she's going to do all that money can----

Flora. _(reading letter)_ To-day, Jack--she's coming _to-day_.

This letter was written yesterday.

Doctor. _(suddenly)_ What a fool I am! Where's the Bradshaw?

_(crosses to table, turns over leaves of Bradshaw, hurriedly)_ Ambleside! A! Where's A! Acton, Aldersgate, Ambleside, here we are! Good gracious! She's nearly here! _(crosses to Flo)_ Flo, it will never do to greet her with a story of a secret marriage--she'd be simply horrified! It's very hard to part--it's been a short and unsatisfactory honeymoon, _(kisses her)_ But-- Where's that Bradshaw? _(crosses to table, fumbles to find the place)_ Lowestoft? L! L! Where the devil is L?

_(Enter Aurora with letter.)_

Aurora. 'Ere, sir--a letter for you, sir--and the boy's waiting, _(R. C.)_

Doctor. _(takes letter)_ Look out the next train, you _must_ catch it! _(throws Bradshaw to Flo)_

_(Doctor reading letter--Flo reluctantly looking out train, in Bradshaw, half crying.)_

Aurora. _(aside)_ You shall catch it, impudent 'ussy! I see yer kiss 'im! They all kiss their dear Doctor. excep' me. _(turns up her nose at Flo, crosses R. of table c.)_

Flora. _(glancing at Aurora)_ I don't like the look of that girl, _(starts)_ She's reading his letter, and _I_ haven't seen it!

Aurora. _(to Doctor)_ Any answer, sir?

Doctor. Yes, I'll write a note to this lady.

Flora. _(jealously)_ A lady!

Aurora. _(aside, reading the letter)_ I'll learn 'er bloomin'

symptoms--I must be 'is patient.

Flora. _(watching her)_ The forward minx! _(shuts Bradshaw with a bang)_ I won't go back to Lowestoft. A wife's place is by her husband's side, _(takes her hat off and sits twisting Bradshaw, viciously)_

Doctor. Give the boy this.

Aurora. Yes, sir. _(takes note, crosses to Flo)_ Can I show you your place--

_(Flo indignant.)_

--in the Bradshaw, miss? P'raps you ain't beyond the A. B. C.

Flora. _(haughtily, s.n.a.t.c.hing it back)_ No, thank you--I can manage myself.

Aurora. _(aside)_ Can yer? I'll struggle with yer--I've learnt 'er symptoms, _(as she goes out)_ Impudent 'ussy!--kissing the dear doctor. I'll struggle with yer, my gal!

_(Exit Aurora.)_

Flora. _(looking at Doctor. who is absorbed reading letter)_ He's forgotten me already, _(pause)_

Doctor. _(rubbing his hands)_ Good business! Call on you this evening, my dear lady--of course I will! I wish it was time now.

_(looks at watch)_

Flora. _(jealously)_ Who's that letter from, Jack? _(kneels on sofa)_

Doctor. A lady in Grosvenor Road.

Flora. How long have you known her?

Doctor. I've never _seen_ her yet.

Flora. Who is she? _(stands)_

Doctor. A patient, Flo--my first--at last!

Flora. _(with a sigh of relief)_ Oh, only that!

Doctor. "Only that!" My dear Flo, a doctor's wife can't afford to be jealous. You'll frighten away all my most paying patients.

Flora. Oh, no, Jack, I won't, _(runs and kneels by him)_ I'll try and look as if I liked them, but I can't help being jealous. My jealousy's only love the wrong side up--that's all.

Doctor. I know it is, and I'm so glad that my first case has come when you were here. You are a mascotte indeed! _(stoops and kisses her)_

Flora. If I stop, I'm sure lots and lots and lots will come.

Doctor. _(not noticing, absorbed in letter)_ This is the very case I've always been hoping for, and I've got if at last! Just look at the gold crest, and the thick paper. No, don't read it.

Oh, it's worth three guineas a week, if it's worth a penny, and it's a three years' job--bar accidents.

Flora. What's she got?

Doctor. Hysterical paraplegia--she's afflicted with all sorts of abnormal fancies and longings.

_(Front door bell rings.)_

Flora. _(jumping up suddenly from her knees)_ Who's that? Another lady afflicted with all sorts of longings?

Doctor. _(seriously, rubbing his hands)_ I hope so--devoutly, _(rises suddenly)_ By George! If it's auntie!1 She mustn't find you here.

Flora. _(running about aimlessly)_ Where shall I go? _(crosses L., runs towards bathroom R. U. E)_

Doctor. _(stopping her)_ Not in my _bedroom!_

Flora. Why not? I'm your wife!

Doctor. Oh, yes, I forgot. But aunt may want to take her things off, and if she found _you_ there, the whole story'd have to come out, and she might think it was a fairy tale, and that would be awful! I know--on my operating couch.

Flora. _(shrieks)_ Ach! Operating!