LIND.
How, was it Svanhild?
FALK.
Well, I hardly know.
[Whimsically.
Forgive me, martyr to another's cause!
LIND.
What do you mean?
FALK.
You've read the news to-night?
LIND.
No.
FALK.
Do so. There 'tis told in black and white
Of one who, ill-luck's bitter counsel taking,
Had his sound teeth extracted from his jaws
Because his cousin-german's teeth were aching.
MISS JAY [looking out to the left].
Here comes the priest!
MRS. HALM.
Now see a man of might!
STIVER.
Five children, six, seven, eight—
FALK.
And, heavens, all recent!