Svava. You do not really mean that?
Riis. But why get so excited about it?—Come and sit down! And, besides, how can you possibly tell?
Svava. Tell? What?
Riis. Well, in each individual case—
Svava.—whether the man I see standing before me or walking past me is an unclean, disgusting beast—or a man?
Riis. Etcetera, etcetera!—You may make mistakes, my dear Svava?
Svava. No—not any more than I should make a mistake about you, father, when you begin to tease me with your horrid principles! Because, in spite of them, you are the chastest and most refined man I know.
Mrs. Riis (laying down her book). Are you going to keep that morning frock on, dear child? Won't you change your dress before Alfred comes?
Svava. No, mother, I am not going to be put off like that.—By this time I have seen so many of my girl friends giving themselves trustfully to their "fairy prince," as they think, and waking in the arms of a beast. I shall not risk that! I shall not make that mistake!
Mrs. Riis. Well, as it is, there is no occasion for you to get heated about it. Alfred is a man of honour.