BEERMANN [grasps the volume tightly and places it in the book-case]. All fooling has its limits; don't forget that.
EFFIE. Now I suppose as a punishment, we can't see the dancer.
BEERMANN. Really I would rather go with you than—sit here, but it is absolutely impossible.
FRAU BEERMANN. Go now, darling; I must talk to papa alone.
BEERMANN. But I haven't the time.
FRAU BEERMANN [positively]. That much of it you have.
EFFIE. Good-bye, papa dear. [Goes out.]
FRAU BEERMANN [Seats herself on the sofa next to the book-case. Beermann stands leaning with his back against the desk. Through the large window the evening sun can be seen so that Beermann's face is in its light, while Frau Beermann sits in the half-dusk.]
BEERMANN. Lena dear, do we really have ...?
FRAU BEERMANN. We do.