Mrs. Alving (speaking slowly and with self-control). You have had your say, Mr. Manders, and tomorrow you will be making a public speech in memory of my husband. I shall not speak tomorrow. But now I wish to speak to you for a little, just as you have been speaking to me.
Manders. By all means; no doubt you wish to bring forward some excuses for your behaviour.
Mrs. Alving. No. I only want to tell you something—
Manders. Well?
Mrs. Alving. In all that you said just now about me and my husband, and about our life together after you had, as you put it, led me back into the path of duty—there was nothing that you knew at first hand. From that moment you never again set foot in our house—you, who had been our daily companion before that.
Manders. Remember that you and your husband moved out of town immediately afterwards.
Mrs. Alving. Yes, and you never once came out here to see us in my husband's lifetime. It was only the business in connection with the Orphanage that obliged you to come and see me.
Manders (in a low and uncertain voice). Helen—if that is a reproach, I can only beg you to consider—
Mrs. Alving. —the respect you owed by your calling?—yes. All the more as I was a wife who had tried to run away from her husband. One can never be too careful to have nothing to do with such reckless women.
Manders. My dear—Mrs. Alving, you are exaggerating dreadfully.