Oh, go on, go on: finish what you were going
to say.
CHARTERIS (suddenly affecting complete indifference, and rising
carelessly). I don't know that I have anything more to say. If I were
you I should invite the Cravens to tea in honor of the Colonel's
escape from a horrible doom. By the way, if you've done with that
British Medical Journal, I should like to see how they've smashed your
theory up.
PARAMORE (wincing as he also rises). Oh, certainly, if you wish it. I
have no objection. (He takes the Journal from the bookstand.) I admit
that the Italian experiments apparently upset my theory. But please
remember that it is doubtful--extremely doubtful--whether anything can
be proved by experiments on animals. (He hands Charteris the Journal.)
CHARTERIS (taking it). It doesn't matter: I don't intend to make any.
(He retires to the recess on Ibsen's right, picking up the step ladder
as he passes and placing it so that he is able to use it for a leg
rest as he settles himself to read on the divan with his back to the
corner of the mantelpiece. Paramore goes to the left hand door, and is
about to leave the library when he meets Grace entering.
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