DOCTOR. The only advice I can give you is not to marry. To put it in this way, you owe a debt. Perhaps its repayment will not be exacted; but at the same time your creditor may come down on you suddenly, after a long interval, with the most pitiless brutality. Come, come! You are a man of business. Marriage is a contract. If you marry without saying anything, you will be giving an implied warranty for goods which you know to be bad. That is the term, isn’t it? It would be a fraud which ought to be punishable by law. GEORGE. But what can I do? DOCTOR. Go to your father-in-law and tell him the unvarnished truth. GEORGE. If I do that, it will not be a delay of three or four years that he will impose on me. He will refuse his consent for good. DOCTOR. In that case, tell him nothing. GEORGE. If I don’t give him a reason, I don’t know what he won’t do. He is a man of the most violent temper. Besides, it will be still worse for Henriette than for me. Look here, doctor; from what I have said to you, no doubt you think I simply care for the money. Well, I do think it is one’s primary duty to make certain of a reasonable amount of comfort. From my youth upwards I have always been taught that. Nowadays one must think of it, and I should never have engaged myself to a girl without money. It’s perfectly natural. [_With emotion_] But she is so splendid, she is so much better than I am that I love her—as people love one another in books. Of course it would be a frightful disappointment not to have the practice that I have bought, but that would not be the worst for me. The worst would be losing her. If you could see her, if you knew her, you would understand. [_Taking out his pocket book_] Look here, here’s her photograph. Just look at it. [_The doctor gently refuses it_]. Oh, my darling, to think that I must lose you or else—Ah! [_He kisses the photograph, then puts it back in his pocket_]. I beg your pardon. I am being ridiculous. I know I am sometimes. Only put yourself in my place. I love her so. DOCTOR. It is on that account that you must not marry her. GEORGE. But how can I get out of it? If I draw back without saying anything the truth will leak out and I shall be dishonored. DOCTOR. There is nothing dishonorable about being ill. GEORGE. Ah, yes. But people are such idiots. Even yesterday I myself should have laughed at anyone I knew who was in the position that I am in now. Why, I should have avoided him as if he had the plague. Oh, if I were the only one to suffer! But she—she loves me, I swear she does, she is so good. It will be dreadful for her. DOCTOR. Less so than it would be later. GEORGE. There’ll be a scandal. DOCTOR. You will avoid a bigger one. _George quietly puts two twenty-franc pieces on the desk, takes his gloves, hat and stick, and gets up._ GEORGE. I will think it over. Thank you, doctor. I shall come back next week as you told me to—probably. [_He goes towards the door_].