am determined to have it out this evening with—[in a tone of suppressed bitterness]—with him—with the chief.
Kaia.
[Anxiously.] Oh no, uncle,—do wait awhile before doing that!
Ragnar.
Yes, better wait, father!
Brovik.
[Draws his breath laboriously.] Ha—ha—! I haven't much time for waiting.
Kaia.
[Listening.] Hush! I hear him on the stairs. [All three go back to their work. A short silence.
Halvard Solness comes in through the hall door. He is a man no longer young, but healthy and vigorous, with close-cut curly hair, dark moustache and dark thick eyebrows. He wears a greyish-green buttoned jacket with an upstanding collar and broad lappels. On his head he wears a soft grey felt hat, and he has one or two light portfolios under his arm.
Solness.
[Near the door, points towards the draughtsmen's office, and asks in a whisper:] Are they gone?
Kaia.
[Softly, shaking her head.] No.
[She takes the shade off her eyes. Solness crosses the room, throws his hat on a
