wall, and two in the right. In the middle of the room, a round
table with chairs set about it, and books, magazines and
newspapers upon it. In the foreground on the left, a window, by
which is a small sofa with a work-table in front of it. At the
back the room opens into a conservatory rather smaller than the
room. From the right-hand side of this, a door leads to the
garden. Through the large panes of glass that form the outer wall
of the conservatory, a gloomy fjord landscape can be discerned,
half-obscured by steady rain.

ENGSTRAND is standing close to the garden door. His left leg
is slightly deformed, and he wears a boot with a clump of wood
under the sole. REGINA, with an empty garden-syringe in her hand,
is trying to prevent his coming in.)

Regina (below her breath). What is it you want? Stay where you
are. The rain is dripping off you,

Engstrand. God's good rain, my girl.

Regina. The Devil's own rain, that's what it is!

Engstrand. Lord, how you talk, Regina. (Takes a few limping steps
forward.) What I wanted to tell you was this--

Regina. Don't clump about like that, stupid! The young master is
lying asleep upstairs.

Engstrand. Asleep still? In the middle of the day?