Hialmar.
Oh, don’t bother me about trifles. Do you suppose I am in the mood to remember details?
Gina.
If only you haven’t caught cold, Ekdal.[Ekdal.]
[Goes out into the kitchen.
Hialmar.
[Talks to himself in a low tone of irritation, whilst he empties the table-drawer.] You’re a scoundrel, Relling!—You’re a low fellow!—Ah, you shameless tempter!—I wish I could get some one to stick a knife into you!
[He lays some old letters on one side, finds the torn document of yesterday, takes it up and looks at the pieces; puts it down hurriedly as Gina enters.
Gina.
[Sets a tray with coffee, etc., on the table.] Here’s a drop of something hot, if you’d fancy it. And there’s some bread and butter and a snack of salt meat.