anything private.

RIDGEON. No no. Sit down. I was only consulting him. I'm rather
out of sorts. Overwork, I suppose.

WALPOLE [swiftly] I know whats the matter with you. I can see it
in your complexion. I can feel it in the grip of your hand.

RIDGEON. What is it?

WALPOLE. Blood-poisoning.

RIDGEON. Blood-poisoning! Impossible.

WALPOLE. I tell you, blood-poisoning. Ninety-five per cent of the
human race suffer from chronic blood-poisoning, and die of it.
It's as simple as A.B.C. Your nuciform sac is full of decaying
matter--undigested food and waste products--rank ptomaines. Now
you take my advice, Ridgeon. Let me cut it out for you. You'll be
another man afterwards.

SIR PATRICK. Dont you like him as he is?

WALPOLE. No I dont. I dont like any man who hasnt a healthy
circulation. I tell you this: in an intelligently governed
country people wouldnt be allowed to go about with nuciform sacs,
making themselves centres of infection. The operation ought to be
compulsory: it's ten times more important than vaccination.

SIR PATRICK. Have you had your own sac removed, may I ask?