[He wipes his spectacles; pause.
AXEL. How much do you need?
LINDGREN. Three hundred and fifty.
AXEL. I haven't got it, and I can't get it.
LINDGREN. Oh, sure!—You don't mind if I help myself to a few drops?
He pours out a drink from the bottle brought by the WAITER for THURE.
AXEL. Won't you have a glass of wine with me instead?
LINDGREN. No—why?
AXEL. Because it looks bad to be swilling whisky like that.
LINDGREN. How very proper you have become!