Rosen. Excuse me—only eight months.
Leonarda. And isn't that long enough?
Rosen. Too long. But you know, better than any one, why I have done it!
Leonarda. Did I ask you to come here? Do you think you can tire me out?
Rosen. Leonarda! (She looks at him; he bows formally.) I beg your pardon. Mrs. Falk.
Leonarda. You shall write the letter here, now, and report yourself for immediate service.
Rosen. If you order me to.
Leonarda. I shall post it.
Rosen. Many thanks.
Leonarda. You are twirling your moustache again. What are you planning in your mind?