HANNE
[With fierce impatience.] Is it my fault that he swills?
FABIG
By no means an' not at all. Nobody c'n keep your old man from doin' his way! 'Tis only on account o' the child, an' it's that makes a body feel sorry. But if that there little one can't be taken away from him an' given in the care o' decent folks, she won't live no ten weeks after this.
HANNE
[Hardening herself.] That don't concern me. I can't take her. I got all I can do to get along!
FABIG
You'd better come over to Quolsdorf some time an' look into it all. That'd be best, too. The little girl … 'tis a purty little thing, with bits o' hands an' feet like that much porcelain, so dainty an' delicate.
HANNE
She's not my child an' she don't concern me.