Hedda.
Can I not help you in any way?
Miss Tesman.
Oh, you must not think of it! Hedda Tesman must have no hand in such mournful work. Nor let her thoughts dwell on it either—not at this time.
Hedda.
One is not always mistress of one’s thoughts——
Miss Tesman.
[Continuing.] Ah yes, it is the way of the world. At home we shall be sewing a shroud; and here there will soon be sewing too, I suppose—but of another sort, thank God!
George Tesman enters by the hall door.
Hedda.