The Editor. Let me repeat, for the last time, that we are not talking about me!
Evje. Hush, hush! What a fellow you are! You get into a rage if any one chaffs you. But you want to hit out at everybody all round!
The Editor. Do you suppose I am myself?
Evje. Who the devil are you, if you are not yourself?
The Editor. I am merely the servant of the public.
Evje. The public executioner, that is to say?
The Editor. Well, yes, if you prefer it. But you shall pay for that word some day.
Evje. There—you see! Always talking of paying for things!—of revenge!
The Editor. You shall pay for it, I tell you!
Evje. You are absolutely mad!—Poof! I am sweating as if it were the dog days! (Changes his tone.) Think of the time when we used to go to school together—when you never could go to bed without first coming to thank me for the jolly times we were having together!