John. You can have a look at the paper, sir, if you like.
Evje. Have you got a copy?
John. Yes, sir, the first copy struck off is always sent to the Editor, so I volunteered to bring it to him. But you must be anxious to see it, sir! (Holds it out to EVJE.)
Evje (snatching it from him). Give it to me! Let me see—. (Moves towards his door, but stops.) No, my wife mustn't—. Here, under the gas-lamp! This filthy fog! I can't—. (Feels in his pocket for his glasses, and pasts them on.) Ah, that's better! (Holds the paper under the light.) What a mischance! The blackguard—! Where is the article, then? Oh, here—I can't see properly, my heart is beating so!
John. Shall I run for the doctor, sir?
Evje. Will you go away, you—! (Holds the paper first up, and then down, in his attempts to see better.) Ah, here it is! "The Stock Exchange Committee"—oh! (Lowers the paper.)
John (mimicking him). Oh!
Evje (trying to read). What a vile thing to do!
John. Oh, go on! go on!
Evje (as he reads). This beats everything I ever—Oh!