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Relling. Marsh vapours?
Hialmar.
Oh, don't begin with that stuff again!
Gina.
Goodness knows there's no vapours in this house, Mr. Werle; I give the place a good airing every blessed day.
Gregers.
[Leaves the table] No airing you can give will drive out the taint I mean.
Hialmar.
Taint!
Gina. Yes, what do you say to that, Ekdal!
Relling.
Excuse me—may it not be you yourself that have brought the taint from those mines up there?
Gregers.
It is like you to call what I bring into this house a taint.
Relling.
[Goes up to him.] Look here, Mr Werle, junior: I have a strong suspicion that you are still carrying about that "claim of the ideal" large as life, in your coat-tail pocket.
Gregers. I carry it in my breast
