Regina.
[In a low voice.] What do you want? Stop where you are. You’re positively dripping.
Engstrand.
It’s the Lord’s own rain, my girl.
Regina.
It’s the devil’s rain, I say.
Engstrand.
Lord, how you talk, Regina. [Limps a step or two forward into the room.] It’s just this as I wanted to say——
Regina.
Don’t clatter so with that foot of yours, I tell you! The young master’s asleep upstairs.