Heire.
A most unhappy slip on my part. But how was I to know it was a secret? [To Monsen.] Besides, you musn't take my expressions too literally. When I say a visit, I mean only a sort of formal call; a frock-coat and yellow gloves affair
Stensgård.
I tell you I haven't exchanged a single word with any of that family!
Heire.
Is it possible? Were you not received the second time either? I know they were "not at home" the first time.
Stensgård.
[To Monsen.] I had a letter to deliver from a friend in Christiania—that was all.
Heire.
[Rising.] I'll be hanged if it isn't positively revolting! Here is a young man at the outset of his career; full of simple-minded confidence, he seeks out the experienced man-of-the-world and knocks at his door; turns to him, who has brought his ship to port, to beg for I say no more! The man-of-the-world shuts the door in his face; is not at home; never is at home when it's his duty to be I say no more! [With indignation.] Was there ever such shameful insolence!
Stensgård.
Oh, never mind that stupid business.
