My dear, dear boy!
Oswald.
[Somewhat impatiently, walks about and smokes.] And what else can I do with myself here? I can’t set to work at anything.
Mrs. Alving.
Why can’t you?
Oswald.
In such weather as this? Without a single ray of sunshine the whole day? [Walks up the room.] Oh, not to be able to work——!
Mrs. Alving.
Perhaps it was not quite wise of you to come home?
Oswald.