to enjoy climbing. [Turns round.] Oh, by-the-bye—what do you think I noticed about Arnholm while we were at dinner?
Boletta. What?
Hilda.
Only think, he's beginning to turn bald—right on the crown of his head.
Boletta. Oh rubbish! I'm sure he isn't.
Hilda.
Yes he is. And he has wrinkles here, round both his eyes. Good heavens, Boletta, how could you be so gone on him when he was your tutor?
Boletta.
[Smiling.] Yes, can you understand it? I remember once shedding bitter tears because he said he thought Boletta an ugly name.
Hilda.
Think of that! [Looks down again.] I say! Look there! Just look!—There's "the lady from the sea" walking with him—not with father—and jabbering away to him. I wonder whether those two aren't a bit sweet on each other.
Boletta.
You ought really to be ashamed of yourself. How dare you say such things about her? We were beginning to get on so well together
