[Warningly to Hilda.] H’m,—h’m!
Hilda.
[Not heeding her.] No, mother’s.
Lyngstrand.
Oh indeed,—your mother’s, is it?
Boletta.
[In a low, angry tone.] Now, Hilda——!
Hilda.
[In the same tone.] Let me alone! [To Lyngstrand.] I suppose you’re going home to lunch now?
Lyngstrand.