Foldal.
[Soothingly.] Well, well, well, I suppose they have.
Borkman.
[Indignantly.] Oh these women! They wreck and ruin life for us! Play the devil with our whole destiny—our triumphal progress.
Foldal.
Not all of them!
Borkman.
Indeed? Can you tell me of a single one that is good for anything?
Foldal.
No, that is the trouble. The few that I know are good for nothing.