Allmers.
He had almost passed away from me. He had passed quite away.
Asta.
Eyolf!
Allmers.
Here I sat, living in these recollections—and he had no part in them.
Asta.
Yes, Alfred—little Eyolf was behind it all.
Allmers.
No, he was not. He slipped out of my memory—out of my thoughts. I did not see him for a moment as we sat here talking. I utterly forgot him all that time.