Hedda.
Oh yes, but there is. There is a great deal more—I can see that. Sit here—and we'll have a cosy, confidential chat.
[She forces Mrs. Elvsted to sit in the easy-*chair beside the stove, and seats herself on one of the footstools.
Mrs. Elvsted.
[Anxiously, looking at her watch.] But, my dear Mrs. Tesman—I was really on the point of going.
Hedda.
Oh, you can't be in such a hurry.—Well? Now tell me something about your life at home.
Mrs. Elvsted.
Oh, that is just what I care least to speak about.
Hedda.
But to me, dear
? Why, weren't we schoolfellows?Mrs. Elvsted.
Yes, but you were in the class above me. Oh, how dreadfully afraid of you I was then!
Hedda.
Afraid of me?
Mrs. Elvsted.
Yes, dreadfully. For when we met on the stairs you used always to pull my hair.
Hedda.
Did I, really?