Professor Rubek.
[With interest.] Well? And then?
Maia.
[A little oppressed.] You are not a particularly sociable man, Rubek. You like to keep yourself to yourself and think your own thoughts. And of course I can't talk properly to you about your affairs. I know nothing about art and that sort of thing— [With an impatient gesture.] And care very little either, for that matter!
Professor Rubek.
Well, well; and that's why we generally sit by the fireside, and chat of your affairs.
Maia.
Oh, good gracious—I have no affairs to chat about.
Professor Rubek.
Well, they are trifles, perhaps; but at any rate the time passes for us in that way as well as another, Maia.
Maia.
Yes, you are right. Time passes. It is passing away from you, Rubek.—And I suppose it is really that that makes you so uneasy
Professor Rubek.
[Nods vehemently.] And so restless! [Writhing in his seat.] No, I shall soon not be able to endure this pitiful life any longer.
