Bishop. Yes—I cannot alter that.
Hagbart. Could you not at all events postpone sending the letter?
Bishop. It is sent.
Hagbart. Sent?
Bishop. This morning. Yes. So there is nothing more to be done.
Hagbart. Uncle, you are cruel!
Bishop. How can you say that, Hagbart? I have acquiesced in your giving up your clerical career—and Heaven alone knows what a grief that is to me. (Gets up.) But I will not acquiesce in your bringing into my house a woman who does not even bear her husband's name. Do we as much as know who her husband was? She was both married and divorced abroad. And we don't know anything more about her life since then; it is scarcely likely it has been blameless. Since she came here she has never once been to church. She has led a most eccentric life, and lately has been allowing a man of very evil reputation to visit her.
Hagbart. General Rosen?
Bishop. Yes, General Rosen. He is next door to a drunkard. And he is a dissolute fellow in other ways, too.
Hagbart. He goes everywhere, all the same. He even comes here.