Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 7).djvu/201

 Regina.

I won't marry any one of that sort. Sailors have no savoir vivre.

Engstrand.

What's that they haven't got?

Regina.

I know what sailors are, I tell you. They're not the sort of people to marry.

Engstrand.

Then never mind about marrying them. You can make it pay all the same. [More confidentially.] He—the Englishman—the man with the yacht—he came down with three hundred dollars, he did; and she wasn't a bit handsomer than you.

Regina.

[Making for him.] Out you go!

Engstrand.

[Falling back.] Come, come! You're not going to hit me, I hope.

Regina.

Yes, if you begin talking about mother I shall hit you. Get away with you, I say! [Drives him back towards the garden door.] And don't slam the doors. Young Mr. Alving

Engstrand.

He's asleep; I know. You're mightily taken up about young Mr. Alving [More softly.] Oho! you don't mean to say it's him as?

Regina.

Be off this minute! You're crazy, I tell you!