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Gregers. [Surprised.] How could you imagine I had any feeling against you?
Hialmar. You had at first, you know.
Gregers. How at first?
Hialmar. After the great misfortune. It was natural enough that you should. Your father was within an ace of being drawn into that—well, that terrible business.
Gregers. Why should that give me any feeling against you? Who can have put that into your head?
Hialmar. I know it did, Gregers; your father told me so himself.
Gregers. [Starts.] My father! Oh indeed. H'm.—Was that why you never let me hear from you?—not a single word.
Hialmar. Yes.
Gregers. Not even when you made up your mind to become a photographer?
Hialmar. Your father said I had better not write to you at all, about anything.
