Tjaelde. Not for me.
Mrs. Tjaelde. You big strong man! It is too hot for me.
Tjaelde (taking a chair). There you are, then.
Mrs. Tjaelde (taking off his hat and wiping his forehead). You are very hot, dear. You have never looked so handsome as you do now!
Tjaelde. That's just as well, as you have so much time to admire me now!
Mrs. Tjaelde. Now that I find getting about so difficult, you mean? Ah, that is only my pretence, so as to get you to wheel me about!
Tjaelde (with a sigh). Ah, my dear, it is good of you to take it so cheerfully. But that you should be the only one of us to bear such hard traces of our misfortune—
Mrs. Tjaelde (interrupting him). Do you forget your own whitened hair? That is a sign of it, too, but a beautiful one! And, as for my being an invalid, I thank God every day for it! In the first place I have almost no pain, and then it gives me the opportunity to feel how good you are to me in every way.
Tjaelde. You enjoy your life, then?
Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, indeed I do—and just as I should wish to.