“ Sylvia in bed, reading a book. She looks up as Hyman enters. He is in his riding clothes. Sylvia has a certain excitement at seeing him.
SYLVIA: Oh, doctor!
HYMAN: I let myself in, hope I didn’t scare you...
SYLVIA: Oh no, I’m glad. Sit down. You been riding?
HYMAN: Yes. All the way down to Brighton Beach, nice long ride—I expected to see you jumping rope by now.
Sylvia laughs, embarrassed.
I think you’re just trying to get out of doing the dishes.
SYLVIA, strained laugh: Oh stop. You really love riding, don’t you?
HYMAN: Well there’s no telephone on a horse.
She laughs.
Ocean Parkway is like a German forest this time of the morning—riding under that archway of maple trees is like poetry.
SYLVIA: Wonderful. I never did anything like that.
HYMAN: Well, let’s go—I’ll take you out and teach you sometime. Have you been trying the exercise?
SYLVIA: I can’t do it.
HYMAN, shaking a finger at her: You’ve got to do it, Sylvia. You could end up permanently crippled.
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