[Walking after him.] Dread? What dread? What do you mean?
Oswald.
Oh, you mustn’t ask me any more. I don’t know. I can’t describe it.
Mrs. Alving.
[Goes over to the right and pulls the bell.]
Oswald.
What is it you want?
Mrs. Alving.
I want my boy to be happy—that is what I want. He sha’n’t go on brooding over things. [To Regina, who appears at the door:] More champagne—a large bottle. [Regina goes.
Oswald.