MRS. HALL. Ugh, your heart! Yes, you have so much!
DR. ÖSTERMARK. It's strange that two people cannot meet once every eighteen years without quarreling.
MRS. HALL. It was always you who quarreled!
DR. ÖSTERMARK. Alone? What!—Shall we stop now?—I must try to look at you. [He takes a chair and sits down opposite Mrs. Hall.] Without trembling!
MRS. HALL. I've become old!
DR. ÖSTERMARK. That's what happens; one has read about it, seen it, felt it one's self, but nevertheless it is horrifying. I am old, too.
MRS. HALL. Are you happy in your new life?
DR. ÖSTERMARK. To tell the truth, it's one and the same thing; different, but quite the same.
MRS. HALL. Perhaps the old life was better, then?
DR. ÖSTERMARK. No, it wasn't better, as it was about the same, but it's a question if it wouldn't have seemed better now, just because it was the old life. One doesn't blossom but once, and then one goes to seed; what comes afterward is only a little aftermath. And you, how are you getting along?