Mrs. Sorby (whispering to the servant). Give him something outside—something really good.
Pettersen (nodding). All right.
He goes out.
Gregers. (In a low and shaken voice to Hjalmar). So it was really he?
Hjalmar. Yes.
Gregers. And yet you stood there and denied you knew him?
Hjalmar (whispering passionately). But how could I——
Gregers. Acknowledge your father?
Hjalmar (pained). Ah, if you were in my place——
The conversation of the guests, which had been carried on in a low tone, now becomes strainedly noisy.