[During the last words, Hedda has entered by the hall door.
Hedda.
[To Brack, laughing with a touch of scorn.] Tesman is for ever worrying about how people are to make their living.
Tesman.
Well you see, dear—we were talking about poor Eilert Lövborg.
Hedda.
[Glancing at him rapidly.] Oh, indeed? [Seats herself in the arm-chair beside the stove and asks indifferently:] What is the matter with him?
Tesman.
Well—no doubt he has run through all his property long ago; and he can scarcely write a new book every year—eh? So I really can't see what is to become of him.
Brack.
Perhaps I can give you some information on that point.
Tesman.
Indeed!
Brack.
You must remember that his relations have a good deal of influence.
Tesman.
Oh, his relations, unfortunately, have entirely washed their hands of him.
