vices! A hat must be procured. [Takes another piece of bread and butter.] Some arrangement must be made. For I have no mind to throw away my life, either. [Looks for something on the tray.
Gina.
What are you looking for?
Hialmar.
Butter.
Gina.
I'll get some at once. [Goes out into the kitchen.
Hialmar.
[Calls after her.] Oh it doesn't matter; dry bread is good enough for me.
Gina.
[Brings a dish of butter.] Look here; this is fresh churned.
[She pours out another cup of coffee for him; he seats himself on the sofa, spreads more butter on the already buttered bread, and eats and drinks awhile in silence.
Hialmar.
Could I, without being subject to intrusion—intrusion of any sort—could I live in the sitting-room there for a day or two?
Gina.
Yes, to be sure you could, if you only would.
Hialmar.
For I see no possibility of getting all father's things out in such a hurry.
