_Mopsa._ And you are beaming with joy over _that?_
_San. Eng. Bloch._ I am indeed. And afterwards I have several important drains to disconnect at the great new hotel in Christiania, and the most tremendous scientific safeguards to grapple with and overthrow. What a glorious thing it is to be a plumber and make a little extra work for oneself in the world! Miss MOPSA, can I persuade you to take a little turn in the garden? Do!
_Mopsa_ (_takes it_). Oh, I don't mind--provided you don't talk either shop or sentiment.
_Spreta_ (_looks after them_). What a pity it is that MOPSA can't take more to that Mr. BLOCHDRÄHN, _isn't_ it, ALFRED?
_Alfred_ (_wriggles_). Oh--er--I don't know. For then we should see so much less of her.
_Spreta_ (_vehemently_). Oh, come! So much the better! (_Clutching him round the neck._) I want you all to myself, ALFRED. I love you so much I could throttle you. I've a good mind to, as it is!
_Alfred_ (_choking_). You _are!_ My loyal, proud, true-hearted SPRETA, d-don't!
_Spreta._ You have ceased to care for me. Don't deny it, ALFRED!
_Alfred._ I will frankly admit that, like most married Norwegians, I am--h'm--subject to the Law of Change.
_Spreta_ (_with increasing excitement_). I saw that so plainly last night. I sent out for some champagne, ALFRED, expressly for _you_. And you didn't drink a drop of it!
_Alfred._ I knew the brand. (_With a gesture of repulsion._) Gooseberry, my dear, gooseberry!
_Spreta._ You never even kissed me, either. But you can kiss _MOPSA!_ ALFRED, if you imagine _I_ am the kind of person to play gooseberry----
_Alfred._ Need dramatic dialogue descend to these sordid details? Really this is verging on a mere vulgar row! And when you know, too, how I have always regarded MOPSA almost as a sort of sister!
_Spreta._ I know that sort of sister, ALFRED. She comes from Norway! But I am none of your fish-blooded Mrs. SOLNESSES, or half-witted BEATA ROSMERS, and I'm not going to _stand_ it! I decline to share you with anything or anybody--whether it's a thick fat book that never gets even begun, or a designing minx that helps you in your precious "vocation," or a gorging little mongrel, with his evil red and green eyes, that I'm often tempted to wish at the bottom of the fiord!