Rörlund.
Who has spoken to you of such things?
Dina.
No one; they never speak. Why don’t they? They all handle me as gingerly as though I would fall to pieces, if——Oh, how I hate all this good-heartedness!
Rörlund.
My dear Dina, I can very well understand that you must feel oppressed here, but——
Dina.
Oh, if I could only go far away! I could get on well enough by myself, if only I lived among people that weren’t so—so——
Rörlund.
So what?