OSWALD. Oh, anything you like. You have some cold punch in the house.
MRS. ALVING. Yes, but my dear Oswald—
OSWALD. Don't refuse me, mother. Do be kind, now! I must have something to wash down all these gnawing thoughts. [Goes into the conservatory.] And then—it's so dark here! [MRS. ALVING pulls a bell-rope on the right.] And this ceaseless rain! It may go on week after week, for months together. Never to get a glimpse of the sun! I can't recollect ever having seen the sun shine all the times I've been at home.
MRS. ALVING. Oswald—you are thinking of going away from me.
OSWALD. H'm—[Drawing a heavy breath.]—I'm not thinking of anything. I cannot think of anything! [In a low voice.] I let thinking alone.
REGINA. [From the dining-room.] Did you ring, ma'am?
MRS. ALVING. Yes; let us have the lamp in.
REGINA. Yes, ma'am. It's ready lighted. [Goes out.]
MRS. ALVING. [Goes across to OSWALD.] Oswald, be frank with me.
OSWALD. Well, so I am, mother. [Goes to the table.] I think I have told you enough.