Valsin [taking her up quickly]. Ah—"with"! Living here alone, and also "with"—whom? Not your late husband?
Anne [desperately]. With my niece.
Valsin [affecting great surprise]. Ah! A niece! And the niece, I take it, is in your other room yonder?
Anne [huskily]. Yes.
Valsin [taking a step forward]. Is she pretty? [Anne places her back against the closed door, facing him grimly. He assumes a tone of indulgence.] Ah, one must not look: the niece, likewise, has not completed her toilet.
Anne. She is—asleep.
Valsin [glancing toward the dismantled doorway]. A sound napper! Why did you not say instead that she was—shaving? [He advances, smiling.]
Anne [between her teeth]. You shall not go in! You cannot see her! She is—
Valsin [laughing]. Allow me to prompt you. She is not only asleep; she is ill. She is starving. Also, I cannot go in because she is an orphan. Surely, she is an orphan? A lonely widow and her lonely orphan niece. Ah, touching—and sweet!
Anne [hotly]. What authority have you to force your way into my apartment and insult—