Regina (advancing towards him). Get out!

Engstrand (stepping back). Here! here!--you're not going to hit
me, I suppose?

Regina. Yes! If you talk like that of mother, I will hit you. Get
out, I tell. You! (Pushes him up to the garden door.) And don't
bang the doors. Young Mr. Alving--

Engstrand. Is asleep--I know. It's funny how anxious you are
about young Mr. Alving. (In a lower tone.) Oho! is it possible
that it is he that--?

Regina. Get out, and be quick about it! Your wits are wandering,
my good man. No, don't go that way; Mr. Manders is just coming
along. Be off down the kitchen stairs.

Engstrand (moving towards the right). Yes, yes--all right. But
have a bit of a chat with him that's coming along. He's the chap
to tell you what a child owes to its father. For I am your
father, anyway, you know, I can prove it by the Register. (He
goes out through the farther door which REGINA has opened. She
shuts it after him, looks hastily at herself in the mirror, fans
herself with her handkerchief and sets her collar straight; then
busies herself with the flowers. MANDERS enters the conservatory
through the garden door. He wears an overcoat, carries an
umbrella, and has a small travelling-bag slung over his shoulder
on a strap.)