The Surgeon (holding the door open). This way.
The Visitor (appearing at the head of the flight of stairs). Is he in here?
The Surgeon. Who?
The Visitor. The boy who saw the angels?
The Surgeon (smiling). Oh, you haven't forgotten him, have you? He's in the next room. (The Visitor enters, obviously winded by his climb.) I'll show him to you afterwards. Get your breath first. You look a little exhausted.
The Visitor (grinning). A little? Quite a little.
The Surgeon. Sit down here. (The Orderly proffers a chair. The Visitor sits. The Surgeon turns on the desk lamp.) This house was built before the Grand Monarque taught them to have an eye for comfort. Magnificent—splendid—all that sort of thing, but mighty unpleasant if you have to live in it. Think of the stretcher bearers carrying men up those stairs!
