Drawn Up From Deep Places

I rewrapped them, yes. They had been tied much too tightly;

it was cruel, not to mention unprofessional.

MRS. BENTHAM

You must trust the doctor with his own work, Stephen. He

knows best what needs to be done.

JACK

You think so? The man’s knuckles were black with blood.

Any first-year charity ward intern might have done better.

MRS. BENTHAM

(Surprised)

Stephen, were you . . . are you a physician?

JACK

I . . . don’t think so. My father . . .

(Pauses)

. . . no, forgive me. It’s gone again.

MRS. BENTHAM

(Rises)

I must tell Dr. Purl.

JACK

Must you?

MRS. BENTHAM

Well, certainly—this might be a clue to your identity. Don’t

you want to know who you truly are?

JACK

No.

MRS. BENTHAM

Whyever not?

JACK

Perhaps because . . . I may already have some idea.

MRS. BENTHAM