Tjaelde. Are you not well?
Mrs. Tjaelde. Not very.
Tiwlde. One of your attacks?
Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes!—but I must fetch your bag. (TJAELDE helps her over to the staircase.)
Tjaelde. You are not well, my dear—but you will be better some day.
Mrs. Tjaelde. I only wish you looked better.
Tjaelde. We all have our burdens to bear.
Mrs. Tjaelde. If only we could bear more together!
Tjaelde. But you don't understand my affairs—and I have never had time to talk about yours.
Mrs. Tjaelde. No—that's it. (Begins to go upstairs slowly.)