Oswald (sitting down). You don't know, mother, that I owe Regina a little reparation.
Mrs. Alving. You!
Oswald. Oh, it was only a little thoughtlessness—call it what you like. Something quite innocent, anyway. The last time I was home—
Mrs. Alving. Yes?
Oswald. —she used often to ask me questions about Paris, and I told her one thing and another about the life there. And I remember saying one day: "Wouldn't you like to go there yourself?"
Mrs. Alving. Well?
Oswald. I saw her blush, and she said: "Yes, I should like to very much." "All right." I said, "I daresay it might be managed"—or something of that sort.
Mrs. Alving. And then?
Oswald. I naturally had forgotten all about it; but the day before yesterday I happened to ask her if she was glad I was to be so long at home—
Mrs. Alving. Well?