Rosmersholm

Rebecca. Mr. Rosmer is so fond of having fresh flowers about him.

Kroll. And so are you, I should say.

Rebecca. Yes, I am. I think their scent has such a delicious effect on one--and till lately we had to deny ourselves that pleasure, you know.

Kroll (nodding slowly). Poor Beata could not stand the scent of them.

Rebecca. Nor their colours either. They made her feel dazed.

Kroll. Yes, I remember. (Continues in a more cheerful tone of voice). Well, and how are things going here?

Rebecca. Oh, everything goes on in the same quiet, placid way. One day is exactly like another. And how are things with you? Is your wife--?

Kroll. Oh, my dear Miss West, don't let us talk about my affairs. In a family there is always something or other going awry-- especially in such times as we live in now.

Rebecca (after a short pause, sitting down in an easy-chair near the sofa). Why have you never once been near us during the whole of your holidays?

Kroll. Oh, it doesn't do to be importunate, you know.