Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 11).djvu/102



[Fixing his eyes upon her.] You are really fond of him? Yes, I am. And yet you cannot make up your mind to? [Interrupting.] Oh, my dear Alfred, don't talk of that! Yes, yes; tell me why you cannot? Oh, no! Please! You really must not ask me. You see, it's so painful for me.—There now! The hat is done. Thank you. And now for the left arm. Am I to have crape on it too? Yes, that is the custom. Well—as you please. [She moves close up to him and begins to sew.