Arnholm. With whom? What?
Bolette. I mean that he and my stepmother—(breaks off). Father and mother suffice one another, as you see.
Arnholm. Well, so much the better if you were to get away from here.
Bolette. Yes; but I don't think I've a right to; not to forsake father.
Arnholm. But, dear Bolette, you'll have to do that sometime, anyhow. So it seems to me the sooner the better.
Bolette. I suppose there is nothing else for it. After all, I must think of myself, too. I must try and get occupation of some sort. When once father's gone, I have no one to hold to. But, poor father! I dread leaving him.
Arnholm. Dread?
Bolette. Yes, for father's sake.
Arnholm. But, good heavens! Your stepmother? She is left to him.
Bolette. That's true. But she's not in the least fit to do all that mother did so well. There is so much she doesn't see, or that she won't see, or that she doesn't care about. I don't know which it is.