Ellida. But why didn't you write?
Arnholm (looks at her and smiles, half reproachfully). I make the first advance? Perhaps expose myself to the suspicion of wanting to begin all over again? After such a repulse as I had had?
Ellida. Oh no! I understand very well. Have you never since thought of forming any other tie?
Arnholm. Never! I have been faithful to my first memories.
Ellida (half jestingly). Nonsense! Let the sad old memories alone. You'd better think of becoming a happy husband, I should say.
Arnholm. I should have to be quick about it, then, Mrs. Wangel. Remember, I'm already—I'm ashamed to say—I'm past thirty-seven.
Ellida. Well, all the more reason for being quick. (She is silent for a moment, and then says, earnestly, in a low voice.) But listen, dear Arnholm; now I am going to tell you something that I could not have told you then, to save my life.
Arnholm. What is it?
Ellida. When you took the—the useless step you were just speaking of—I could not answer you otherwise than I did.
Arnholm. I know that you had nothing but friendship to give me; I know that well enough.