in the cellar,[1] they are all the more ready to take in what we tell them above—they feel themselves safer.
Petra.
For shame! You're not such a hypocrite as to set traps like that for your readers. You're not a spider.
Hovstad.
[Smiling.] Thanks for your good opinion. It's true that the idea is Billing's, not mine.
Petra.
Mr. Billing's!
Hovstad.
Yes, at least he was talking in that strain the other day. It was Billing that was so anxious to get the story into the paper; I don't even know the book.
Petra.
But how can Mr. Billing, with his advanced views
Hovstad.
Well, Billing is many-sided. He's applying for the secretaryship to the Town Council, I hear.
Petra.
I don't believe that, Mr. Hovstad. How could he descend to such a thing?
Hovstad.
That you must ask him.
1 The reference is to the continental feuilleton at the foot of the page.
