His Wife.
Oh, it looks like a ruined castle!
The Man.
And here—on that "ruined castle," as you call it (just where I have put that mark in the centre)—I will build me a stately mansion.
His Wife.
But it will be so cold up there—so windy?
The Man.
Nay, I shall give the mansion stout walls and huge windows of plate-glass; and then at night, when the winter storms are raging and the fjord is tossing below, we shall draw the curtains over the windows, and heap up a roaring fire (I shall make enormous fireplaces, you know—large enough to hold whole trunks of trees, whole beams of pine).
His Wife.
Ah! it will be warm enough then.