(Knocked out of
professional
gravity, tramping across
flower-beds and shaking G's hands.
Kipling - Poems
G. (Slowly, fingering charger's headstall.) Your curb's too loose.
Capt. M. So it is. Put it straight, will you? (Aside.) I shall be late
for parade. Poor Gaddy.
Capt. G. links and unlinks curb-chain aimlessly, and finally stands
staring toward the veranda. The day brightens.
DOCTOR.
(Knocked out of
professional
gravity, tramping across
flower-beds and shaking G's hands.
) It'-it's-it's!--Gadsby, there's
a fair chance--a dashed fair chance. The flicker, y'know. The sweat,
y'know I saw how it would be. The punkah, y'know. Deuced clever woman
that Ayah of yours. Stopped the punkah just at the right time. A dashed
good chance! No--you don't go in. We'll pull her through yet I promise
on my reputation--under Providence. Send a man with this note to Bingle.
Two heads better than one. 'Specially the Ayah! We'll pull her round.
(Retreats hastily to house.
