BRACK.
Yes, don't you think so! [To TESMAN.] Are you on the move, too?
TESMAN.
Yes, I must rush of to my aunts'. Fancy—the invalid one is lying at death's door, poor creature.
BRACK.
Dear me, is she indeed? Then on no account let me detain you. At such a critical moment—
TESMAN.
Yes, I must really rush— Good-bye! Good-bye!
[He hastens out by the hall door.
HEDDA.