Allmers.
Those, of course, you must keep yourself.
Asta.
[With an effort.] No; I am determined that you shall look through them, too, Alfred. Some time—later on in life. I haven't the key of the portfolio with me just now. Allmers. It doesn't matter, my dear Asta, for I shall never read your mother's letters in any case. Asta. [Fixing her eyes on him.] Then some time or other—some quiet evening—I will tell you a little of what is in them. Allmers. Yes, that will be much better. But do you keep your mother's letters—you haven't so many mementos of her. [He hands Asta the portfolio. She takes it, and lays it on the chair under her outdoor things. Rita comes into the room again.
Rita.
Ugh! I feel as if that horrible old woman had brought a sort of graveyard smell with her.
Allmers.
Yes, she was rather horrible.
