ADOLPH. I don't _think_ so! And it seems to me all the time as if
she were in the wrong--Would you care to read this letter, for
instance, which I got today?

[Takes out a letter from his pocket-book.]

GUSTAV. [Glancing through the letter] Hm! The handwriting seems
strangely familiar.

ADOLPH. Rather masculine, don't you think?

GUSTAV. Well, I know at least _one_ man who writes that kind of
hand--She addresses you as "brother." Are you still playing
comedy to each other? And do you never permit yourselves any
greater familiarity in speaking to each other?

ADOLPH. No, it seems to me that all mutual respect is lost in that
way.

GUSTAV. And is it to make you respect her that she calls herself
your sister?

ADOLPH. I want to respect her more than myself. I want her to be
the better part of my own self.

GUSTAV. Why don't you be that better part yourself? Would it be
less convenient than to permit somebody else to fill the part? Do
you want to place yourself beneath your wife?

ADOLPH. Yes, I do. I take a pleasure in never quite reaching up to