To Madam Rundholmen.
Monsen.
Ah, at last!
Aslaksen.
But not till to-morrow evening, he said; to-morrow evening, neither sooner nor later. Here’s to you!
Heire.
[To Lundestad.] What the deuce is all this business between Stensgård and Madam Rundholmen?
Lundestad.
[Whispers.] He’s courting her.
Heire.