Walking That Fine Lion

WOOLMA: Rudyard....

RUDYARD: You've come, Woolma....

WOOLMA: I had to come.

RUDYARD: I know.

WOOLMA: Yes, I know you know.

RUDYARD: Yes, I know you know I know...and yet, somehow, I was uncertain...shoulder-shruggingly, eyebrow-raisingly, heart-flutteringly uncertain, and yet somehow sure....and you, Woolma?

WOOLMA: I was sure too, Rudyard...lip-bitingly, teeth-grittingly, dog-in-the-mangerly, utterly utterly sure...and yet, somehow, uncertain.

RUDYARD: I know.

WOOLMA: Yes, I know you know.

RUDYARD: Yes...that's the wonderful thing about us, Woolma...it's all unspoken.

WOOLMA: My dear Rudyard, are they looking after you here in the hospital?

RUDYARD: Yes...the swelling's gone down.

WOOLMA: Does it still hurt?

RUDYARD: Only when you poke it with your umbrella like that. Woolma, dear....can you take a shock?

WOOLMA: I'll try to be brave, Rudyard.

RUDYARD: Look! (whips back the bedclothes)

WOOLMA (yelps in alarm) Rudyard!

RUDYARD: Not a pretty sight, is it? Woolma, I've....I've asked the Doctors to remove it.

WOOLMA (gasps in horror) Why, Rudyard, WHY??

RUDYARD: It's no good to me! I want them to take it away; I'd rather not have it at all than have it like this! Oh, it's cold, Woolma, it's cold; do you understand, Woolma dear? Dp say you understand, please...

WOOLMA: I understand, Rudyard...there's nothing worse than a cold hot-water bottle!