[Gaily.] What nonsense! Not get out of it! When I make my entrance into the festive halls—just imagine it!—deserted and forlorn—then I must simply say “No” for you.
Erhart.
[Hesitatingly.] Well, if you really think I can get out of it——
Mrs. Wilton.
[Putting the matter lightly aside.] I am quite used to saying both yes and no—on my own account. And you can’t possibly think of leaving your aunt the moment she has arrived! For shame, Monsieur Erhart! Would that be behaving like a good son?
Mrs. Borkman.
[Annoyed.] Son?
Mrs. Wilton.
Well, adopted son then, Mrs. Borkman.
Mrs. Borkman.