Signe. Because I understand! Ha, ha, ha, ha!
Hamar. What do you understand?
Signe. Whose hands it is that have decked the altar! Ha, ha, ha!
Hamar. I suppose you think they were mine?
Signe. No, they were redder hands than yours! Ha, ha, ha, ha! (VALBORG throws the bouquet down.) Oh, dear me, it doesn't do to laugh so much in this heat. But it is delightful! To think he should have hit upon that idea! Ha, ha, ha!
Hamar (laughing). Do you mean—?
Signe (laughing). Yes! You must know that Valborg—
Valborg. Signe!
Signe.—who has sent so many distinguished suitors about their business, cannot escape from the attentions of a certain red pair of hands—ha, ha, ha, ha!
Hamar. Do you mean Sannaes?