OSWALD. Isn't she splendid to look at? How beautifully she's built! And so thoroughly healthy!
MRS. ALVING. [Sits by the table.] Sit down, Oswald; let us talk quietly together.
OSWALD. [Sits.] I daresay you don't know, mother, that I owe Regina some reparation.
MRS. ALVING. You!
OSWALD. For a bit of thoughtlessness, or whatever you like to call it—very innocent, at any rate. When I was home last time—
MRS. ALVING. Well?
OSWALD. She used often to ask me about Paris, and I used to tell her one thing and another. Then I recollect I happened to say to her one day, "Shouldn't you like to go there yourself?"
MRS. ALVING. Well?
OSWALD. I saw her face flush, and then she said, "Yes, I should like it of all things." "Ah, well," I replied, "it might perhaps be managed"—or something like that.
MRS. ALVING. And then?