Rebecca. Yes, I won't deny that!
Kroll. My dear Miss West, there is no objection to that—not as far as you are concerned.
Rebecca. No, that is just what I think. I must follow the course of events—keep up with what is happening.
Kroll. Well, under any circumstances, I should never expect you, as a woman, to side actively with either party in the civic dispute—indeed one might more properly call it the civil war—that is raging here. I dare say you have read, then, the abuse these "nature's gentlemen" are pleased to shower upon me, and the scandalous coarseness they consider they are entitled to make use of?
Rebecca. Yes, but I think you have held your own pretty forcibly.
Kroll. That I have—though I say it. I have tasted blood now, and I will make them realise that I am not the sort of man to take it lying down—. (Checks himself.) No, no, do not let us get upon that sad and distressing topic this evening.
Rebecca. No, my dear Mr. Kroll, certainly not.
Kroll. Tell me, instead, how you find you get on at Rosmersholm, now that you are alone here—I mean, since our poor Beata—
Rebecca. Oh, thanks—I get on very well here. Her death has made a great gap in the house in many ways, of course—and one misses her and grieves for her, naturally. But in other respects—
Kroll. Do you think you will remain here?—permanently, I mean?