FALK.
O yes, I know the pretty coquetry
They carry on with "Domesticity."
It is a suckling of the mighty Lie
That, like hop-tendrils, spreads itself on high.
I, madam, reverently bare my head
To the ball queen; a child of beauty she—
And the ideal's golden woof is spread
In ball-rooms, hardly in the nursery.
MRS. HALM [with suppressed bitterness].
Your conduct, sir is easily explained;
A plighted lover cannot be a friend;
That is the kernel of the whole affair;
I have a very large experience there.
FALK.
No doubt,—with seven nieces, each a wife—
MRS. HALM.
And each a happy wife—
FALK [with emphasis].
Ah, do we know?
GULDSTAD.
How!
MISS JAY.
Mr. Falk!
LIND.
Are you resolved to sow
Dissension?
FALK [vehemently].
Yes, war, discord, turmoil, strife!
STIVER.
What you, a lay, profane outsider here!