checks himself. Then speaks more confidently.) But it was just at
such a time that I looked for help from you, my friend. That is
why I did not bother myself much about it.

The Editor (to EVJE). But you know it is you that are attacking me
now!

Evje. I?

Mrs. Evje. He?

The Editor. And, besides, I have no choice in the matter. You have
made your bed, and must lie on it.

Evje (growing angry again). But do you really mean that you don't
feel yourself how shocking such behaviour in an old friend is?

The Editor. "Old friend," "old schoolfellow," "neighhour,"--out
with the whole catalogue!

Mrs. Evje. I am sure you don't deserve to be either one or the other!
(The EDITOR laughs.) Think what you wrote to-day about Halvdan
Rejn, who is dying. A man could only write that who--who--

The Editor. Well?--who?

Mrs. Evje. Who has not an atom of heart.

The Editor. Ha, ha! "The natural affections!"--"family considerations!"
Truth, my dear lady, has no family ties; it has no respect even for a