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 Werle.

Why, deuce take it—after all these years, how can I?

Gregers.

You wrote me a letter about that time—a business letter, of course; and in a postscript you mentioned—quite briefly—that Hialmar Ekdal had married a Miss Hansen.

Werle. Yes, that was quite right. That was her name.

Gregers.

But you did not mention that this Miss Hansen was Gina Hansen—our former housekeeper.

Werle.

[With a forced laugh of derision.] No; to tell the truth, it didn't occur to me that you were so particularly interested in our former housekeeper.

Gregers.

No more I was. But [lowers his voice] there were others in this house who were particularly interested in her.

Werle.

What do you mean by that? [Flaring up.] You are not alluding to me, I hope?

Gregers. [Softly but firmly.] Yes, I am alluding to you.

Werle.

And you dare! You presume to! How can that ungrateful hound—that photographer fellow—how dare he go making such insinuations!