pen._] Be careful what you eat to-day. How about this drinking--did your
business trouble come after it began, or did the whiskey come after the
business trouble?

STERLING. That's it.

DR. STEINHART. Um--[_Giving_ STERLING _the paper which he tears out of
his note-book._] Look here, I've a busy day before me; but I'll look in
to-morrow, and we'll have a good talk.

STERLING. Thank you. I say, what _is_ this?

DR. STEINHART. It's all right. Sulphate of morphia--one-quarter-grain
tablets.

STERLING. Isn't that very little?

DR. STEINHART. Oh, no; you try one, and repeat in an hour if it hasn't
done its work.

STERLING. But you've only given me two tablets, and I tell you I'm
awfully hard to influence!

DR. STEINHART. Two's enough; we don't give a lot of drugs to a man in a
nervous condition like yours. Don't let them wake you for luncheon if
you're asleep. Sleep's best for you. Good-by--pleasant dreams.

[_He goes out Left._

STERLING. [_Reads off the prescription._] "Two one-quarter-grain tablets
sulphate of morphia, Wm. B. Steinhart--" And in _ink!_ Why didn't he
write it with a lead-pencil? How can I make it more? Two--wait a minute!
Two! [_Taking out his own stylographic pen._] What's his ink? [_Makes a
mark with his pen on his cuff._] Good! the same! Why not make it twelve?
[_Marking a one before the two._] Just in case--I might as well be on
the safe side!

[_He rings an electric bell beside the mantel, and waves the paper in
the air to dry it._ BLANCHE _enters Right._

BLANCHE. I heard the doctor go. Is anything serious the matter?

STERLING. _If_ it were my _body_ only that had gone wrong, Blanche!

[LEONARD _enters Left._

[_To_ LEONARD.] Take this prescription round the corner and have it put
up.

LEONARD. Yes, sir.

STERLING. And bring it to me with a glass of water.

LEONARD. Yes, sir.

[_He goes out Left._

[BLANCHE _is still standing._ STERLING _sinks into a chair, and puts his
head in his hands, his elbows on the table. He lifts his head and looks
at her._

STERLING. I know what you're going to do; you don't have to tell me; of
course you're going to divorce me.

BLANCHE. No.

STERLING. What!

[_His hands drop to the table; he looks her straight in the face,
doubting what he hears._

BLANCHE. [_Looking back into his eyes._] No.

STERLING. [_Cries._] Blanche!

[_In a tone of amazement and joy._

BLANCHE. I give you one more chance, for your sake _only as my boy's
f