Hilmar.
No, of course, he's to be a mere stick-in-the mud, like so many others.
Rörlund.
Why do you not go to America yourself?
Hilmar.
I? With my complaint? Of course no one here has any consideration for that. But besides—one has duties towards the society one belongs to. There must be some one to hold high the banner of the ideal. Ugh, there he is shouting again!
The Ladies.
Who is shouting?
Hilmar.
Oh, I don't know. They are talking rather loud in there, and it makes me so nervous.
Mrs. Rummel.
It is my husband you hear, Mr. Tönnesen; you must remember he is so accustomed to addressing great assemblies
Rörlund.
The others are not whispering either, it seems to me.
Hilmar.
No, sure enough, when it's a question of keeping the purse-strings tight; everything here ends in paltry material calculations. Ugh!
Mrs. Bernick.
At least that is better than it used to be, when everything ended in dissipation.
