s a
time. His brother-in-law extirpated tonsils for two hundred guineas
until he took up women's cases at double the fees. Cutler himself worked
hard at anatomy to find something fresh to operate on; and at last he
got hold of something he calls the nuciform sac, which he's made quite
the fashion. People pay him five hundred guineas to cut it out. They
might as well get their hair cut for all the difference it makes; but
I suppose they feel important after it. You cant go out to dinner now
without your neighbor bragging to you of some useless operation or
other.

EMMY [announcing] Mr Cutler Walpole. [She goes out].

Cutler Walpole is an energetic, unhesitating man of forty, with a
cleanly modelled face, very decisive and symmetrical about the shortish,
salient, rather pretty nose, and the three trimly turned corners made by
his chin and jaws. In comparison with Ridgeon's delicate broken lines,
and Sir Patrick's softly rugged aged ones, his face looks machine-made
and beeswaxed; but his scrutinizing, daring eyes give it life and force.
He seems never at a loss, never in doubt: one feels that if he made
a mistake he would make it thoroughly and firmly. He has neat,
well-nourished hands, short arms, and is built for strength and
compactness rather than for height. He is smartly dressed with a fancy
waistcoat, a richly colored scarf secured by a handsome ring, ornaments
on his watch chain, spats on his shoes, and a general air of the
well-to-do sportsman about him. He goes straight across to Ridgeon and
shakes hands with him.

WALPOLE. My dear Ridgeon, best wishes! heartiest congratulations! You
deserve it.

RIDGEON. Thank you.

WALPOLE. As a man, mind you. You deserve it as a man. The opsonin is
simple rot, as any capable surgeon can tell you; but we're all delighted
to see your personal qualities officially recognized. Sir Patrick: how
are you? I sent you a paper lately about a little thing I invented: a
new saw. For shoulder blades.

SIR PATRICK [meditatively] Yes: I got it. It's a good saw: a useful,
handy instrument.

WALPOLE [confidently] I knew youd see its points.

SIR PATRICK. Yes: I remember that saw sixty-five years ago.

WALPOLE. What!

SIR PATRICK. It was called a cabinetmaker's jimmy then.

WALPOLE. Get out! Nonsense! Cabinetmaker be--

RIDGEON. Never mind him, Walpole. He's jealous.

WALPOLE. By the way, I hope I'm not disturbing you two in anything
private.

RIDGEON. No no. Sit down. I wa