Solness.
[Shortly, waving them away.] Put those things away! I have seen enough of them.
Hilda.
Yes, but you have to write your approval on them.
Solness.
Write my approval on them? Never!
Hilda.
But the poor old man is lying at death’s door! Can’t you give him and his son this pleasure before they are parted? And perhaps he might get the commission to carry them out, too.
Solness.
Yes, that is just what he would get. He has made sure of that—has my fine gentleman!