But I shan’t. [Darkly.] However, perhaps she’ll go away soon.
Boletta.
Papa still thinks of moving to the sea-side then?
Hilda.
[Crossly.] Oh, Papa—Papa never thinks!
Boletta.
Hush, Hilda. What dreadful things you say!
Hilda.
[Grimly.] Not half so dreadful as the things I should like to do.
Boletta.